


Dance With Me

by Cieltee



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Human Hobbits, Human Smaug, M/M, Mass Confusion, Parallel Realities, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-27 06:10:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 30,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7606729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cieltee/pseuds/Cieltee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo and his nephew, Frodo, are book writers in the Hobbiton District of Shire, Middle Earth. Thus far they've written short stories, children's books, and the occasional review of places they've traveled to for a good friend or two. But then comes a night where the two are stumped in their writing ways and have to forgo their craft to seek out inspiration from those around them. Bilbo looks to the city of Erebor, where his good friend Gandalf resides with a company of Durin folk, whilst Frodo and his friends travel even farther on their own adventure. Little did both parties know that they would be inspired beyond their own imagination and find some interesting chapters to their lives along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ch 1 - What To Do, What To Do...?

**Author's Note:**

> An interesting title that doesn't seem to go with this kind of summary, aye? I'm not sure how well this will go, or how long I'll keep it up, but I'm hoping for the best. I'll also be posting new chapters whenever I have the inspiration/time to post them. These might also depend on some feedback as well... Please leave your opinion in a comment below- if ya have no words but a positive feeling of the story, then feel free to leave a Kudos. Thank you!
> 
> \----
> 
> What would you do if you woke up and had to settle a problem? Well, Bilbo has one idea, but it's crazy. So crazy, it might work.

_Oh what will you do with a drunken sailor,_  
_Oh what will you do with a drunken sailor,_  
_Oh what will you do with a drunken sailor-_  
_Early in the morning!_

Bilbo roused from his bed with a start, swearing to the Thrain's ears at the racket his nephew's alarm clock-radio had caused. He rolled out of bed, shoved his feet into his worn out house slippers, and stormed to the den where his nephew resided. Frodo was still sleeping, even as his uncle slapped the snooze button of the infernal device on his way to the kitchen, grumbling as he went. A right poor way to be woken up- and on a Sunday, out of all the days! Bilbo dragged a hand over his face as he glared at the choices of coffees and teas in his tea cabinet, as if they had been the cause of his troubles and had offended him. He picked a minty chocolate coffee and set about brewing it in the clunky coffeemaker he was gifted well over 10 years before that very morning. He swore time and time again the damn thing was never going to die, despite all the times Frodo had slammed into it as he grew up or tripped whilst proofreading his work.

Speaking of work, the older of the Bagginses was not looking forward to it. He had stayed up almost til 2 in the morning- which, looking at the clock by his still sleeping nephew, was only 5 hours of sleep that was allotted- and was bound to up til the same hour yet again if he didn't get any ideas and fast. It's one of the woes the Bagginses had- they were writers by trade and if they had a spell of writers block, then they lose fresh sources for money to cycle in. There were still their old material being sold electronically on a self-publishing website, but sooner or later, their patrons would come calling for more reads; how are they to meet those requests if they can't write? It's dreadful, it really is. As Bilbo clicked the power switch to the coffeemaker so that it would beginning brewing his choice of brew, he let out a sigh and deflated a bit.

"At least Frodo isn't stuck in a rut like I am. The wonders of a young mind- plenty of imagination to spare," the older Bagginses muttered to himself, puttering over to the fridge to get a start on the family's first breakfast. As if the fridge was created to be a disappointment for old Bilbo that day, it revealed that they were almost out of eggs and the milk had expired just two days prior- Bilbo didn't know of this because Frodo had been the one cooking the last few days and had served them waffles or toast for their first breakfast, neither of which requiring milk. Swearing to himself, Bilbo tossed the old milk out and started improvising by making hash browns- thankfully there were plenty of potatoes, as the two both enjoyed the tuber and had easy access to them thanks to Frodo's friend, Samwise Gamgee, who grew them by the plenty in his vegetable garden.

But, as with other things that morning, the hash browns decided to turn out poorly- they were half burnt and no amount of salt seemed to brighten their flavor. But Bilbo knew that Frodo wouldn't mind the burnt parts, so he dished out the browns to where his nephew had the crispy bits more than he did. Apparently the smell of the browns and coffee had caused the nephew in question to wake from his slumber and sluggishly find his way to the kitchen table. Frodo sat down with a mighty yawn and tired groan, groping for his coffee mug which wasn't on the table yet. "Uncle... Uncle, coffee," the boy whined.

"Stop that noise right now or you won't be getting any coffee," Bilbo said sternly, setting down the plated meals on the table before turning back to get to work on preparing the coffee mugs.

Frodo groaned again, "Why don't we have a faster pot?"

"Unless you have the money to buy a faster one, you have no right to complain about ol' Steamy," replied Bilbo, smirking as he returned with the mugs- his own was a nice shade of brown while Frodo's was borderline tan due to the amount of creamer the younger liked to have in his morning cuppa joe. Frodo carefully brought his mug closer so that he could nurse it whilst he woke up further.

"I'd have the money to buy a faster one if the patrons would stop buying your scripture more so than they do mine, Uncle."

"It's not my fault that we agreed to write under the same pen name. You could have used that Underhill one instead of my Burglar," Frodo's uncle pointed out before scooping a forkful of browns into his mouth. _Goodness, I can never get the salt right on this. Perhaps I should follow Gandalf's advice and have it with ketchup... but then it's not really hash browns, now is it? More of a scrambled tater tot... I suppose, now that I think of it, that is what hash browns are._

"I did offer to compromise with Burglar R. Underhill, but you complained about how the 'R' could mean anything-"

"And it still can, Frodo."

"Well, if it bothers you so much on what it could mean, we can just define it in the author's notes," reasoned Frodo, waving his fork pointedly at his uncle, ignoring how some of his hash browns fell onto the table despite Bilbo giving him a look for it. "It could be... I don't know, 'Ring' or something."

"'Burglar Ring Underhill?' Come now, Frodo, you and I both know you could come up with a better name than that even when you're asleep at your computer after many hours of hard work," teased Bilbo as he reached over and cleaned up the browns on the table. An awkward silence suddenly filled the air, as if someone had pressed pause on the telly whilst a character is posed in a ridiculous manner. Bilbo looked up at his nephew, who was staring into his coffee mug. "Something the matter, Frodo?"

"Nothing...major," said Frodo tentatively, bringing the mug to his lips as he gingerly sipped at the still very hot brew. Bilbo knew that whatever was bothering his nephew was clearly the opposite of 'nothing major,' as Frodo only sipped at his fresh coffee if something major was bothering him. And Bilbo would be the one to know, as he was the one to teach his nephew the trade of writing and also introduce him to coffee. Bilbo watched Frodo with a steady gaze, waiting for his nephew to spill the beans in his own time. Which didn't take long, as the boy put his mug down with a sigh. 

"I... Haven't been able to think of anything to write. Like, at all. I tried writing a short review last night and revised the thing about thirty times before telling the patron that I would need a while to think about it before giving them anything," the younger Baggins explained slowly, staring into his coffee mug. "It's been like that all week and no matter how hard I try to get inspired, i just can't think of anything. Do you think it's cabin fever?"

Bilbo gave his nephew a thoughtful look. So they were in the same boat after all- and here he thought that Frodo wouldn't have trouble at all, but clearly the fates had other plans and decided to deal them this curve ball. Writers block was the worst thing to try and handle, especially when there were patrons depending on you to give them manuscripts as soon as possible. Bilbo recalled his last writers block spell had lasted well over a month and he had lost a fair sum of his income during that period because he didn't have material to dish out. It was also round the time that Frodo had just started with his portions of their writings, which was what kept them out of the hole during that time. If both of them are sitting like bumps on a log, then there was no telling how antsy their costumers would be. Boy, were they in a pickle...

Bilbo looked around slowly, trying to see if anything could help, and Frodo watched him expectantly. What could get them out of this bind? Was it cabin fever? Now that he thought about it, it had been a while since they went out to actually do something other than getting groceries. Perhaps they needed the fresh air to get their gears turning. Resting his gaze on a photograph just past Frodo's shoulder, Bilbo had a sudden idea- it was crazy, but it just might work.

"Frodo... I think it's time we got out on an adventure."


	2. Ch 2 - Hold the Phone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gandalf and Sam had tricks up their sleeves so it looks like both Bilbo and Frodo will be going on different trips- alas, not in their favorite rocket ship, soaring through the sky.

"Uncle, if I didn't know better, I would say you've gone stark raving mad," commented Frodo Baggins as he watched his uncle clicking away at his somewhat old Dell laptop. Even though the lad knew better, he still believed that his uncle was a little out of it- an adventure? Really? When they're in a situation where the best course of action would to not go off spending more money than needed? Yeah, that's a bit mental if you look at it that way.

"It'll be good for us. We can go visit Gandalf- you remember him, aye? Came round these parts when you were about...what, 10 or so?" inquired Bilbo as he typed away. 

"Eight, actually. I met Pippin when I was ten, uncle. And what if I don't want to visit Gandalf? No offense to him or to you, but he's a little dry and more up your alley than he is mine," explained Frodo in an almost apologetic tone. It was true- while Gandalf was much like a grandfather figure for the younger Baggins, he wasn't the easiest to be around when Frodo could always go off and hang out with his friends who were much more closer to his age. Gandalf was just fine to see around Thanksgiving or Christmas, but not in a moment where inspiration for writing is at hand. Plus, he smelled like a strange brand of pipe-weed and it always bothered Frodo's nose.

"Who else would you go see then? Or do you have another idea in mind? You have it a'right, we need to get out of here before the place drives us mad- you might be on to something about me heading that way already," commented Bilbo, looking up from his laptop to look at his nephew.

Frodo gave a shrug, unable to really say something because he hadn't a thought in mind-

_For auld lang syne, my dear,_  
_For auld lang syne-_  
_We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,_  
_For auld lang syne._

Frodo fished out his phone, which was the cause of the sudden tune, and answered it. Bilbo watched his nephew as he spoke with a casual tone to whomever it was on the line- the lad paced about, going 'yes' and 'oh really' and 'interesting,' as if the conversation over the phone was worth such words. Frodo let out an excited gasp, inquiring, "Really? Are you serious? No way! No, no, we were actually planning... Oh my god, that's so cool! Yeah, yeah, I'll see ya tomorrow! Okay, bye!"

Bilbo raised a brow at his nephew as the boy gave a cheer and hung up his cellular device, shoving it home into his pocket. "Uncle, you won't believe it!" the boy exclaimed, face brighter than the morning sun with excitement.

"I'll be my own judge of believing or not, my boy. What in the Thrain's coffers has you so ecstatic?"

"Sam's taking me to Rivendell with Pippin and Merry!"

"...To where?" asked Bilbo, a bit dumbfounded by the name. He didn't mind much that Frodo wouldn't be going with him to Erebor, as the lad had just voiced how he didn't want to go there; nor did Bilbo mind that Sam, Merry, and Pippin were involved in this scheme of going... wait, Rivendell? "Hold the phone, do you mean Rivendell as in the city of them elves? That Rivendell?"

"Yes!" Frodo exclaimed, nodding enthusiastically. "Sam has been dying to go there for nearly a decade and his folks told him that they would pay for his trip if he did odd jobs for them- he did and now we all get to go! For free!"

"Well, I'll be. Looks like you'll be having your own adventure after all, my boy. And if I heard you right, I take it you leave tomorrow?"

"Yeah, tomorrow afternoon. Sam would have said an earlier time, but he has to watch Miss Rosie's little sister as a favor for her fixing his coat and vest a month back."

"Ah yes, his coat and vest," said Bilbo thoughtfully, nodding as he recalled the articles of clothing in question. Poor Samwise had been carting around his father's wagon to pick up trash around the neighborhood- one of them odd jobs his parents had given him- when he had stopped in front of Miss Rosie's house for a breather; he had bent down to sit on a stone by the lass's garden when a nail from the wagon's side had caught both coat and vest and ripped a big hole in the two. He was lucky the nail hadn't caught his undershirt or worse, his skin, else he would have needed a tetanus shot in case the nail was rusty or something. Miss Rosie was kind enough to fix up the coat and vest, in return that Sam would watch her little sister for a morning while Rosie went to the market for an interview at the local pub- the lass always wanted to be a bartender and she wasn't going to let the opportunity slip past her unless she couldn't help it.

"So you'll be needing to pack, eh?" Frodo gave his uncle a nod, which the older Baggins gave a nod in return before getting up from his chair. "Well then, let's get to it. Remember what your mother and grandmother would say- 'adventure waits for no one-'"

"'-Especially a Took,'" the two finished in unison. They shared a moment where they smiled softly at each other, both missing their dams even though there was nothing they could do to turn back time for the two ladies in question to be back on this green Earth. Then Bilbo clapped his nephew on the shoulder before they both set to gathering Frodo a change of clothing to use over his trip, including any spares he would need in case something happened to the others. Alas, they didn't have any suit cases, so Frodo had to use one of their old camping packs for his clothing and other necessities, not that the lad minded.

The two had settle into their luncheon, having had skipped their second breakfast due to the phone call and and packing they did, when Bilbo's computer pinged at him, indicating that he had a message on Facebook. He groaned in his mind at the memory of Frodo setting the damn thing up for him, although it has proven to be useful every once in a while. Bilbo looked at the messenger box, seeing that Gandalf of all people had left him a note.

' _My dear hobbit, I'd like to invite you on an adventure of sorts to the Lonely Mountain Manor in the heart of Erebor. The company bids you come quickly as they have a bit of trouble with a neighbor of late and ask you to share some words in person to the gentlemen in question whilst you are here,_ ' Bilbo thought as he read the note to himself, imagining Gandalf's voice as he did so. He smirked at the impression his mind gave, shaking his head at how strange it was that he couldn't replicate it vocally. He continued reading and his smirk turned into a gaping mouth- ' _Your train ticket has already been taken care of and is being faxed over to you as you read this. Your train leaves tomorrow afternoon and you should arrive by 3:13 PM. Good luck with your travels and see you tomorrow._ '

Bilbo spluttered as he heard the fax machine- why in the world does he still have one?- scratched away at him while his train ticket information was faxed through. Frodo plucked the paper up and read it to himself before laughing aloud. "It looks like Gandalf missed you so much, he plans to steal you away for a while, eh, Uncle?"

Bilbo could only nod, stunned, before clapping a hand over his face. "Why did I befriend such a peculiar man?"

"Uncle, when did you get the message?" asked Frodo, suddenly frowning.

Bilbo looked back at the screen, looking at the time of the message. "12:24, why do you ask?"

"On what day?"

"To...day, wh-" Bilbo looked at the date of the message. It had popped up not today, but yesterday... as the time was currently 10:25 AM and the ping was actually his cousin Lobelia asking him about his silverware- why hasn't he blocked her yet? Bilbo let out a groan as he deflated into his seat- now he had to pack, be out of the house, and over to the train station before noon, and he still hasn't had a bite of his lunch! "To Mirkwood with you, Gandalf!"

Frodo could only laugh now at his uncle's frustration. At least now neither of them would be stuck at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, already another chapter. The inspiration came easily for some reason- who knows, perhaps the inspiration will keep on coming and I can dish out chapters with ease?
> 
> My apologies if it's a bit short, but while the inspiration comes easily, the lengthy chapters don't. Hoping it's a good read! Please leave a comment or Kudos if you want :3


	3. Ch 3 - The Whistle Blows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo doesn't like trains- probably because he has never been on one before.

"Frodo, did you lock the door?" asked Bilbo as he stuffed his handkerchief back into his vest pocket and patted the corderoi fabric down despite it not needing it. Goodness, did he have everything? Going back over the mental checklist he had made for himself, it seemed like everything was fine. Still, Bilbo went over the list thrice more to try and convince himself that everything was fine. 

Frodo clapped him on the back and smiled. "I'm very positive that I did and even if I didn't, the silverware is in the lock box so Lobelia doesn't get it should she drop by, a'right?" 

"While that is a bit comforting, my boy, I still feel like I ought to go back and check the house-" Bilbo started, but Frodo's stern hand on his shoulder not only silenced him, but kept Bilbo from turning back to go about doing what he wanted. 

"Come now, uncle. You've got a train to catch and I've got a friend to call and pick me up early because good old Gandalf had other plans than our own. So wave off those butterflies before they turn into wasp in your belly."

"I don't have butterflies- more like a twister... Frodo, are trains safe? I've flown before and had long car rides- I took a boat once! But a train is- what if it rolls or goes off the rails?" questioned Bilbo, fretting as the two grew closer to the train station. "Should I have gotten insurance? Did Gandalf give me insurance- by the Brandywine, did we grab my ticket?" 

"Uncle, stop fretting! Yes, trains are safe, yes you have travel insurance, and yes, we grabbed your damn ticket. And said ticket says you're on the Eagle in coach. Odd, you'd think that Gandalf would spoil you a bit more and put you in first class, but for a short ride, I suppose that's fine."

Indeed, it was fine. Even third class or anything less than coach was fine, granted coach meant he had a chance for some privacy if he was lucky. Bilbo hoped he was lucky as his chest tightened at the sight of the train before him. Goodness it looked like a beast that could easily tip over on a wrong turn and crush him. Perhaps he should take Frodo's words to heart and do his best to calm himself. When the train suddenly whistled at them and the conductor gave a 20 minute warning til the train wouldn't accept anymore passengers, Bilbo could feel his belly disagreeing on calming down. 

"Let's get your stuff to that baggage wagon and then get you boarded, eh?" suggested Frodo, leading the way to the wagon he spoke of. Bilbo followed along, wide eyed from the train. Upon reaching the wagon, Frodo hefted his uncle's bags into it before turning round to face his uncle. He frowned a bit at Bilbo's expression. 

"Uncle... If you're that scared, I can always cancel the ticket and get the car ready for you."

Bilbo shook his head, taking a deep breath. "I'm alright... Once the train gets moving, I'll be right as rain."

Frodo clapped his uncle on the shoulder for who knows how many times that day and smiled at him. "Right you are, dear uncle. Right you are... Come now, give me a hug before you have to be seated."

Bilbo choked up a bit as he hugged his nephew tightly, like it would be the last he would see the boy. Frodo hugged him back, patting his back in a soothing manner. "Be safe on your trip with Sam... Don't trust Merry and Pippin with any money... Or food." 

"Aye uncle."

"Message or call me when you get picked up. And lock the door."

"Aye... Uncle?"

"Yes, Frodo?"

"Your about to miss your train- let go."

Bilbo swore as he let go of Frodo, patted the lad on the shoulder as he side farewell before hurrying to the door of the coach car. Frodo laughed as he waved after him. It'd be a while before they see each other again... Much later than the sooner they would both be hoping for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, my apologies, but I hope it's a good one. And is that a hint of foreshadowing at the very end...? Who knows.


	4. Ch 4 - Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A strange man is to take Bilbo to the Manor after the train ride. Seems pretty nice, come to think of it.

The train ride felt like it took forever. The wheels squealed at every slightest turn of the tracks and the car rattled so much, Bilbo could have sworn that his bones were being put through a blender. That, of course, was a vast exaggeration. However, Bilbo's nerves were on end and then some. He wished that next bend would reveal the station in Erebor- or at the very least the outskirts of the city. 

A trolley lady came by and left him a dish of tea cakes and a tall tea cup. When Bilbo asked her how much it was, she laughed and replied, "You pay not a cent, sir. It's your package deal, the one you picked out."

"Actually, I didn't pick out the ticket-" Bilbo had started but the lady was already making her way on down to the next compartment. Bilbo gave a sigh as he picked up one of the tea cakes and nibbled at it. Surprisingly, it was quite fresh, albeit not quite a flavor he cared for entirely. Still, it was nice to have, especially around the time he'd usually be having his tea. The tea in the tall cup was warm and strong- he could taste a bit of honey in it, but other than that, the brew's flavor was unknown to him. 

About half an hour after the lady had came by, one of the other workers of the train came by to inform Bilbo that it would be another half hour til they reach the station. 

"Do you have the time?" asked Bilbo. 

"Just about 2:10, good sir."

"Thank you," said Bilbo and the man went on his way. Just a little more than an hour and he'd be at Lonely Mountain Manor. What kind of a name was that anyways? Wouldn't it be Durin Manor, seeing how the company lived there? Maybe it belongs to Gandalf and he didn't care for naming a place after himself. There was also that other man that Gandalf mentioned- a landlord perhaps? Oh, the number of questions he had. Shame they more than doubled the answers he had- which were none.

The train whistled at him and Bilbo nearly jumped out of his skin. "Blasted train whistles," he muttered, quite cross with the damn thing. He gathered his composure and looked out the window. Just round the edge of the bend, he could make out the small shapes of buildings, signaling that the train was almost to the outskirts of the city. Not much of a sight, but as the train grew closer to the city, more and more buildings came into view. Bilbo watched in building awe as beautifully crafted homes and business seemed to blossom from the horizon, the afternoon sun glinting off metal and glass. 

"Amazing..."

"Best get your bag down, sir, before you get caught up in the view and forget it," said the man from before, having had stuck his head into the compartment. Bilbo nodded in agreement and got up to get his bag, having to stand on the seat to do so. Goodness, if he wasn't so short, he wouldn't have to do so! 

He hopped down with his bag and dusted off the seat before going back to look at the approaching city. "Truly amazing. 

Sometime later, the train pulled to a slow and steady stop at the station and the passengers were allowed to depart to fetch their luggage and be on their way. Bilbo was left to wander around the edge of the station, not sure where to go from there. Gandalf did leave him a message of whether he was being picked up or if he were to hail a cab. So he found himself a bench to wait for someone to find him- he would give them... 15 minutes before he looks for a cab. 

Only 5 minutes had passed when someone tapped his shoulder. "Bilbo Baggins?" 

Bilbo looked up to see a tall man with bronze skin and jet black hair. He was clad in a red-brown leather jacket, white undershirt, black jeans, and black boots. He was also giving Bilbo an expectant look. 

"Ah, yes, that's me, mister...?"

"Firedrake. Smaug Firedrake. You're a bit shorter than I expected- five three?"

"Five five, actually. Five six if you count my shoes and hair," Bilbo corrected, shaking the man's hand when he offered it. 

"Better than five three- you'd be nearly a foot shorter than myself. So is this all your gear?" asked Smaug, gesturing to the luggage next to Bilbo. The shorter man nodded as he stood and Smaug gathered most of the luggage up into his arms, the leather of his jacket squeaking a bit as muscles flexed underneath the clothing. Bilbo lifted the remaining luggage and his backpack and followed Smaug as the taller made his way to the exit of the station. 

Outside, Bilbo was lead to a spiffy looking SUV, which Smaug opened the very back of so they could lead it up with Bilbo's luggage. Then they loaded up themselves and began their drive to the Manor. 

"So, how's life in Hobbiton?" asked Smaug. 

"Tame and peaceful, just how I like it. But apparently too so, as I came down with writer's block last night."

"Oh that's not good. I hope your stay will change that. I also hope the missus doesn't mind you being away for a while- no doubt she's worried." 

Bilbo cleared his throat, "Ah, I don't have a missus."

Smaug gave him a surprised look. "No? Playing too hard to get back in Hobbiton? Or is that not your field?" 

"Just haven't the time and not much of a need for one. I reckon I'll settle down eventually, but I'm too busy for that," explained Bilbo in an honest tone. Smaug nodded and they spent the rest of the drive chatting idlely. Not bad, in all honesty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is a good size chapter, but that's okay. Hope you guys like it!


	5. Ch 5 - Adventure is Out There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can't let Bilbo have all the spot light.

Frodo danced around the den to his uncle's house, listening to his Mystery Skulls Forever album. He loved how the bass would throb in his bones in a delicious way. He was tempted to get a spare CD to put an instrumental version of the album just so that he could only listen to the base and everything. Not saying the words are bad... Just that the base was his favorite. Frodo pranced about until the music suddenly stopped and his ring tone started blaring at him. 

_Hey Jude,_  
_Don't be afraid._  
_Take a sad song and make it better._  
_The minute you let-_

Frodo snatched up his phone and answered before the rest of Hey Jude could continue playing through, "Nancy's house of porn, how may I help you?" 

He was met with a roar of laughter before a voice spoke up, "Hey 'Nancy,' how close are ya to being ready to go?" 

"Depends, how much are you paying me?"

"Aw, I have to pay you now? Sam, he said we have to pay him- Oh, here's Sammy-"

"I swear, the things you say to him can get really weird sometimes. You ready to go, Mister Frodo?" asked Sam, kinda taking all the fun out of things. 

"Yeah, just get on over here and we can load my stuff up into the car. Uncle had me pack this morning before he went off to Gandalf's."

"He went to Gandalf's? Whatever for?"

Frodo let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I honestly don't know."

"Well, we will be there in a few- see you in a few." 

Frodo clicked his phone off and shoved it into his pocket, rolling his shoulders after doing so. Either he was just tired because it was Sunday or he was tired from the fact he had to spend who knows how long with his friends in one confined area. Probably both.

Thinking back, he knew it was not very wrong of him to think of his friends like this. Sam was a busy body type, always trying to micromanage what they did. Merry was the chaotic neutral of the group, typically the sarcastic but funny guy. Merry was one a close-like-brothers relationship with Pippin, who was kinda carefree and usually in trouble the most. Frodo was just there, going with the flow or being a mother hen. But they've been friends for so long, it felt weird to think that they all were so different and typically should not be able to maintain this friendship for so long in a normal situation. 

Thinking so much made Frodo shake his head again. He shook his head as he gathered up his bag and a satchel for things like his phone, pocket knife, and his wallet. Within 10 minutes, Sam had pulled up to Frodo's house and honked to let him know that they had arrived. Merryamade a remark that the car horn sounded like an offended duck, getting a snicker from Pippin. Sam rolled his eyes- twice, as the two goof balls decided to go on with impersonating ducks and the car. 

"I can always make you two walk, ya know."

"Aye, but we're paying for gas money. How's this Pony' suppose to get to Rivendell with no gas?" inquired Merry. 

"I can have you push the car."

"You'd never get to Rivendell- we'd quit after one or two pushes," said Pip, laughing. 

Sam was about to let out an irritated groan, but then Frodo popped open the passenger front door and peaked his head in. Merry and Pippin let out a greeting cheer at him while Sam deflated in slight relief. 

"You two making Sam's life hell again?"

"It's what we live for, Frodo," answered Merry, Pip nodding in agreement. Sam gave Frodo a hopeful look. 

"Well cool it until the ride back or til dinner," Frodo said, climbing in and stuffing his bags between Merry and Pippin. He clicked on his seat belt and they were off, heading towards Bree for gas and dinner. Hopefully not a gassy dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Sam, he has to put up with Merry and Pippin. But hey, Frodo's in the mix so there is that. 
> 
> Again, short chapter.


	6. Ch 6 - G'night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frodo can't get a break from his cousin's habits and nature itself.

For the first night, Frodo and his friends stayed in a double queen at the prancing pony. Much to their dislike, there wasn't a mini-fridge or even a microwave should they want booze or late night ramen noodle. Sam reasoned that they should just get on to bed and leave early the next day- after breakfast of course. They all agreed, though Frodo was the only one who managed to doze off.

He opened his eyes to see a dark sky and overgrown ruins. The stars shown like diamonds in a sea of deep, dark purple- or possibly blue, there was no telling. Frodo took in a deep breath, taking in the sight before him- cept a twinkle at the bottom of his peripheral caught his attention. Looking down, Frodo saw himself clad in brown and tan traveling clothes, a deep green-grey cloak with a leaf clasp, and a golden ring hanging round his neck off a silver chain. 

Frodo found himself staring at the ring, entranced by it. It sang to him in a language he could not make out the words to, yet he could tell that the ring wanted him to don it and slip off to find its true owner. He almost did-

_Beep! Beep! Beep!_

Frodo awoke with a start, noting that the smoke alarm was going off. "What the he-" 

Sam was already getting up on a chair to turn the thing off while Merry and Pippin were... What were they doing? Merry noticed Frodo had woken up and smiled at him. 

"Hey Frodo. Great to see you're up- we made some delicious, crispy bacon."

"Is that a cook top? For Shire's sake, I thought the place was on fire!"

Pippin gave him an apologetic look, "Sorry, Frodo. Just a late night snack."

"Late night-" Frodo looked at the clock and saw it was just after midnight. "Oh my God, guys, seriously? Finish up and go to bed!" 

Frodo listened to Merry and Pippin as they gave their word that they'd go to bed after clean up. Sam came over to the bed- his side, of course- and crawled onto it, going right under the covers. Frodo gave him a 'good night' shoulder pat and the two settled to sleep. Little did Frodo know, he would end up curled up against his friend through most of the night, only to roll back before he'd wake. Sam didn't mind a single bit. 

Come morning, they all awoke around the same time for the complimentary breakfast the hotel was serving. Merry and Pippin were more tired than Sam and Frodo, which made the Gamgee boy ask why they were so tired. 

"See, Pip and I went for a walk after the bacon thing. Spent a hour in the lobby before coming back to the room. We tried to sleep, we really did, but felt too restless to do so. Eventually we dozed off about... Three in the morning?" explained Merry, having to look at Pip at the end for confirmation. 

"Aye, bout 3 or so," Pip concluded with a yawn. 

"Should have gone to bed early. Or take sleep aid," suggested Frodo. 

"Ah, I would but I'm usually up late and sleep aid gives me weird morning wood, you know?" Merry mused, grinning as Sam looked disturbed and Frodo laughed alongside Pip. Oh boy, what a morning. 

They were on their way sometime after 10,making their way to distant Weathertop. This was place was actually a camp ground about 2 hours drive from Rivendell. They would have gone ahead to Rivendell, but Sam needed to put more gas in the car and they were all restless staying in the car all day. So they'd be camping their for a night while Sam sorts out the gas. 

"Have we enough tents?" asked Frodo. 

"Just a big one- we'll all have to scrunch together unless someone wants to sleep in the car," said Sam, pulling out the tent from the trunk. 

"Fair enough." 

If sleeping in cramp quarters can be called fair. They all tried sorting things around, but eventually Frodo opted to sleep in the car. Sleeping on the ground was just not his Forte. The walk to the car in the night air felt wonderful yet foreboding. He only had the light from his phone to go off of and it was only to see where he was stepping. Still nearly tripped once or twice, and he walked through a spider Web, which had him dancing about, freaking from the creepy feeling of webbing on his skin. 

It wasn't until Frodo had reached the car that he realized that the spider who made the Web was not only on him, but also very angry. And had a painful bite! He let out a shout of pain, clapping a hand over the spider and it's bite. "Fuck that hurt!" 

Apparently spiders make one swear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouch, gotta hurt. I'm setting this up where Frodo will have to be rushed away, but the next chapter will actually be focused on Bilbo. Thanks for reading!


	7. Ch 7 - Say What Now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo has to break some news to Smaug, and he's rather perplexed that he has to be the one to do it- or does he?

Upon their arrival at Lonely Mountain Manor, Bilbo and Smaug were met with mixed views. The former was gathered in a massive group hug with the company, though Bombur was the one who hefted him up first and popped his back in many places whilst doing so. Smaug on the other hand was met with unease or distasteful looks before Thorin snapped his fingers at him and ordered the bronze skinned man to take Bilbo's things to his quarters. Bilbo casted him an apologetic look as Smaug did as ordered, shooting Thorin a scowl as he did.

Balin snaked his way through his horde of kin to clap Bilbo on the shoulder, asking, "How was the train? Gandalf insisted it would be the smoothest ride, though I warrant that planes or cars are much smoother, albeit the latter is slower."

Bilbo let out an exhausted sigh, "It was fine but I swear, if it's that bumpy on the way here, I hope to the Distant Shores that it'll be less so on my way home. How long will you have me, if I may ask?"

"Ah, well, that will depend on how our situation goes."

"What even is the situation? I was told that I am to say something to someone- besides that, I'm in the dark, friend."

"We have a thing to be settled," said Balin in a gentle and slow tone.

"A thing..." said Bilbo in equal slowness.

"Aye."

"Can you be more, you know, specific? A thing can be anything- children's story for someone's nephew, a playwright, a review- give me something of substance, if you don't mind."

"That man you walked in here is spreading round a rumor that this Manor belongs to him," Thorin said, his voice cold as he stepped closer to Bilbo and Balin. A hush washed over the rest of the company and the bitterness dwelling deep inside their leader seemed to pierce the air as he continued, "That man has no right and you will see to it that he knows it. This is a Durin's house, directly handed down to me from my father, who received it from his father. That dragon is no more than a thief, a felon, and I refuse to part with even a single table cloth to that man."

Bilbo blinked at the bristling Durin. He's seen Thorin all mad before over a mixed order at a restaurant before, but this...this was borderline malice directed towards a man that has thus far been helpful for the Hobbit. He cleared his throat, looking away from Thorin so he wouldn't see any anger rise to his eyes, before speaking as clearly as possible, "What you're asking me is not a thing I can do. I am an author, not some...lawyer. I have no authority whatsoever except the authority I hold in my books. So unless you want me to write a short story to explain all this to a man who has so far been nothing but nice to me, then you best find someone with proper training and what have you to sort this mess."

"So you will not help us?" asked Dwalin, who was nearby.

Bilbo looked to him, then Thorin, then Balin, and then back to Dwalin before shaking his head, "No."

"Great. Already figured this wasn't your thing- really all of us but Thorin already figured," said Dwalin, looking quite relieved and completely dismissing the glare Thorin was throwing his way, "But I had also hoped that for his sake, there would be something that you could do."

Bilbo shrugged, "The most I can do is help you find a lawyer. Or supervise while you all talk things out with um.... Smaug, Mr. Firedrake."

"If you don't mind lad, would you do us the favor- and honor- of doing that?" asked Balin, resting his hand on Bilbo's shoulder in a gentle way. 

The Hobbit nodded, albeit reluctantly, as he didn't want to really be caught up in this mess but if he had to, then so be it. Might as well since he was there. Thorin gave him a curt nod and they all moved on to the dining room, agreeing that some food in their bellies will do them wonders. Gandalf was already there, setting the table and what not. Bilbo counted the chairs and noted that there was an extra one even if he included Gandalf into the mix. Part of him really hoped that Smaug would join them, mostly because he wanted this mess sorted out sooner rather than later. Sure enough, Mr. Firedrake did join them, but hovered at the opposite door from the Hobbit and the company. Gandalf was either very oblivious to the tension in the room or was flat out ignoring it, as it all seemed to be oozing from Thorin and Smaug.

"Come, friends, find yourselves a seat and let us have dinner under way- ah, Smaug, will you sit in my spot at this end of the table? Bilbo, you sit to his right, there's a good lad," mused the elderly man, taking a seat to Smaug's left. Everyone filed into their seats, Thorin sitting at the opposite end of Smaug with Dwalin and Balin to his left and right, respectfully. Kili and his brother sat closest to Bilbo and Gandalf, both apparently not giving a damn if their uncle was at odds with the man who sat on their end.

"Let's get to business then-" started Thorin, but Gandalf cut him off.

"Balin, my good friend, what in the world did you put in this roast? It's splendid, I haven't had anything like it since I visited your cousins."

Balin looked both confused but humbled, replying with, "It isn't what I put in it, but rather what sauce I put over it. I'll give you the recipe later, just don't like Nori get his hands on it-"

"You've been promising me that recipe for years! How bloody long must I wait, you blighter?" demanded Nori, his tone still friendly. They were obviously teasing each other, which Bilbo and surprisingly Smaug found amusing as they picked at their dinner. However, Thorin didn't find it at all amusing- if anything, he found it to be very, very distracting.

"Sort your matters out later- we have business to settle and I want it settled now," the Durin said sternly. Most of the company ducked their heads, not wanting to be tempted to delay their leader any longer, lest they wish to see what happens should they do so. Gandalf sat back and fixed Thorin with a calculating gaze.

"I had thought that business matters are meant for the study, not the room of which your very food can sour with words alone. Surely you can wait to settle things at a later time, Thorin?"

"I did not stutter. I want this settled, and I want it settled now. Not later, now."

Gandalf regarded him with a reluctant nod. "Very well... Balin, have you the contract?"

Bilbo watched on as the older Durin retrieved said contract from the inside of his jacket. He checked it over a few times to see if it was the right one before passing it to Dwalin, who had rose to walk the contract down to Gandalf. Gandalf then examined it, though the way he seemed to just breeze through it with ease told the Hobbit that Gandalf had already read it carefully a time before now. The old man looked from Smaug to Thorin, before asking, "Are the terms known to all?" Bilbo wanted to raise his hand to say he didn't know the terms, but Smaug beat him to it, stating he didn't know the terms.

Gandalf cleared his throat, "Put simply, you both claim that this house is yours- Thorin through family and you, Smaug, through the magistrate of Erebor. Thorin wants you gone and you want what is yours, as he wants what is his. The business to settle is who gets what- as steward of this estate, I of course struck and agreement with Thorin to allow you to stay as long as you wish-"

"You did no such thing!" shouted Thorin, slamming his hands on the table as he stood.

Gandalf looked at him thoughtfully, "Haven't I? Well, then he is my guest and I'll see to it he is given a safe ride home whenever his stay is over, which will be whenever I say it is. You've accepted the same for Mr. Baggins, you'll do the same for Mr. Firedrake."

"Do not order me around in my house!"

"Do not order me around at all, Thorin son of Thror! You wouldn't have this house if not for my help, nor would your father or your grandfather! I am not some servant you can shout at as you wish!" Gandalf boomed, standing slowly and to his full height, which was much more than that of Thorin, and despite being an old man, Gandalf was very intimidating. Thorin stepped back at the man's fury, going a bit pale- even most of the company, save Ori, Dori, and Gloin, seemed to have gone rigid in fear. Gandalf softened like nothing happened, "I am your friend. Now, let's keep a leveled head and handle this like proper adults, mm?"

Thorin sat down slowly and nodded, looking down at his plate. Bilbo and Smaug blinked, regarding Gandalf with awe. This was going to be an interesting evening... wonder what'll be for dessert?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to make this one longer, I really did, but my arms are killing me. 
> 
> Gandalf seems to be that one guy you just don't mess with, otherwise you and your children and your children's children will regret that you had.


	8. Ch 8 - That Escalated Quickly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when you're allergic to spider bites? You go to the hospital in the back of an ambulance.

Frodo wasn't sure what happened first: the sudden itchy and puffy feeling in his skin or the heat that came with it? To be safe, he decided they probably arrived at the same time. He dug into his shirt and removed the dead spider, shaking it off his hand before he could get a good look at it- as if he could with the sky darker than a bottomless pit. He pulled the front of his shirt down to see where the blasted creature had bitten him and could see even in the darkness a small, puffy, red spot where it had got him. He couldn't recall the last time he was bitten by a spider, but damn did it hurt. Well, it hurt and it burned, but so do mosquito bites which he'd have a good deal of if he doesn't get into the car. Releasing his shirt, Frodo trudged forward and opened the car, crawling into the back. It was nice inside, even with the seat buckle digging into his side as he laid down. Much better than the ground.

Closing his eyes, Frodo willed himself to go to sleep- which, much to his surprise, came quicker than he initially thought. And it lead him straight to a dream, one just as odd as the night before. He was back at the ruin, but things were definitely different. It was like he was surrounded by smoke and all color in the world was sucked out. He could tell it was the ruin from before because he was on the ground, backed up against the remains of a stone wall. Frodo was about to question why he was there or even how he got there, when tall glowing figures of men came into view. They were creepy looking, like they were from some horror film. One with what appeared to be a crown atop his head directed his gaze towards Frodo and the lad could feel a chill run like a rabbit down his spine- it seemed like the wall to his back just wouldn't allow him to scoot back further against it as the figure began to approach him. A numbing cold from one of his fingers caught Frodo's attention, making him look down at his hand as it rose up like someone was pulling on it. Sitting around his index finger was the ring from the previous dream- it sang out to the figure that drew ever closer and a wave of panic rose in Frodo. 

_No, it's mine! You can't have it!_ the lad found himself thinking as he pulled his hand back from the figure's own outstretched hand. The figure reeled back, furious at him, and drew a sword from its belt. Frodo's eyes blew wide open as he tried to scream for the figure to stop, but no voice would leave his lips, nor could he move. The figure drove the blade home into his shoulder- Frodo screamed like no tomorrow. It was like a a spear of ice that was so cold it burned had been driven into his flesh and harshly ripped out, ripping his screams from his throat along with it. Frodo didn't even notice the figure and his companions being driven off as he tried to get that blasted ring off his hand- deep down, past the pain, he knew that if he took it off, his friends could see him. The ring slid free from his finger and the world went black.

\-----

"Merry, where are they?!" shouted Sam, cradling his best friends' head in his lap in the back seat of his car. He didn't know what was happening, no one did. They had heard Frodo give a shout, which woke them all up, and then the car door open and close. Merry tried reasoning that Frodo probably stubbed his foot on is way back to the car, which Pippin seconded and tried to lay back down to go to sleep again. Sam, ever so worried for Mr. Frodo, told Merry to stay up until he returns from checking up on Frodo. The Gamgee boy shimmied into his jeans and then his sneakers- checking for spiders or other nightcrawlers before doing so- and left the tent. The walk to the car couldn't have taken him 10 or so minutes, no thanks to it being dark as heck out, and when Sam looked into the car window, he could see Frodo laying there, sleeping. Sam watched on for a few minutes before returning to the tent, relief flowing through him now that he knew that Frodo was alright.

Except he wasn't, or so they discovered about half an hour later when Merry had gotten up to take a piss and then checked on Frodo. The Baggins boy was still asleep, but a sheen of sweat was seen on his forehead, making Merry a bit confused. He opened the door and leaned in, shaking Frodo by the leg, "Frodo? Frodo you alright?"

When Frodo didn't stir, Merry crawled in with his flashlight and shown it in the other's face in hopes to see if he would wake up from that. It was then that he saw that Frodo was very pale and had sweated through his shirt, which was odd because the car was a lovely temperature. Merry's brow furrowed as he felt Frodo's forehead- it was burning hot, like he had a fever. "That's not good," he muttered, pulling out his phone to call Sam.

"Mmng, what is it? Get lost, Meriadoc?" asked a sleepy sounding Sam.

"Something's wrong with Frodo-" started Merry, but Sam had hung up as soon as the Brandybuck said 'Frodo.' 

Sam, along with a very tired Pippin, hurried off to the car, the former looking very out of breath. "What's wrong?"

"He's burning hot, pale as a sheet, and I can't get him to wake up. Think he ate something? Got sick?" inquired Merry, gesturing to their unconscious friend. 

Samwise shook his head, "No, we wouldn't have noticed earlier. Pip, get the first aid kit from the trunk." He handed Pippin the keys and the lad hurried to the back of the car, fetching the kit. He returned shortly, not bothering to close the trunk, and handed it to Sam. Samwise opened it and pulled the thermometer, gesturing for Merry to pull Frodo's shirt up. For a moment, none of them noticed the circle of red peaking out from the edge of Frodo's shirt until the thermometer beeped at them, alerting them that the boy was running a 100 degree fever, and Pip pointed at the spot.

"What's that? Heat rash?"

Merry pulled Frodo's shirt further up, revealing a quarter sized spot with two dark pin points at the center. "Oh my god... it's a spider bite." Before the others could say anything, Meriadoc was dialing 911. "Hello, 911? Yes, this an emergency, my friend is having an allergic reaction to a spider bite- he's unconscious and running a 100 degree fever! We're at Weathertop, please hurry!"

"He's allergic to spider bites?!" shouted Sam. "Why didn't he tell us that he's allergic to spiders?!"

"Because he's only allergic to certain kinds and those don't live around Bags End, you dingus! Pip, go take down the tent and bring it here. I'm going to go watch for the ambulance- Sam, keep his head close to you in case he goes into anaphylactic shock!" Pippin and Merry both left the car, each going about to do as the former was ordered and the latter said he was going to do. Sam rounded the car to the side Frodo's head was, and maneuvered the lad to where Sam was cradling his head, as mentioned before.

Samwise shouted for Merry again when suddenly the sirens of an ambulance screamed at him, the vehicle pulling up beside his Pontiac. A paramedic hurried over to the car and asked for Frodo's and Sam's names, followed by Frodo's birthday, all the while checking the Baggins boy for his pulse and breathing. Samwise answered dutifully and when the paramedic waved over a gurney for Frodo to be loaded up on, he felt tears pouring down his face. Pippin came over as the car was evacuated, Frodo being placed and strapped onto the gurney.

"Is he going to die?" the Took asked the paramedic. 

"Not on my watch. Which one knew about Mr. Baggins being allergic to spider bites?"

"Me, sir," said Merry, stepping up. The paramedic waved him over to climb into the back of the ambulance with Frodo- this brought a twang to Sam's heart, but neither Pippin nor Merry knew how to drive the Pontiac. The paramedic gave them directions to which hospital they were taking Frodo and then the ambulance departed, taking Frodo and Merry away. Pippin and Sam jumped into the Pontiac and followed after. Definitely not going to mention this to Bilbo unless things turn for the worse.

\-----

When Frodo woke up from the black void he had been sucked into after removing the ring, he was surrounded by light, making him wince at how bright the world was around him. He went to cover his eyes but he felt heavy, like his arms were made of stone, and could only groan in discomfort. His discomfort grew as one after the other, his eyes were forced open and the dreadful light was shown into them. He blinked away spots as he heard someone talking to him- or maybe someone else? No, no, they were talking to him, saying his name in a question tone, trying to get his attention.

"Mr. Frodo?" the person- a doctor, looking at his scrubs under a lab coat- asked him again.

Frodo tried to speak but found a tube was currently going down his throat, which was frightening and strange at the same time. Apparently he looked distressed as the doctor made soothing noises at him.

"Relax, Mr. Frodo. We'll have that tube removed in a few moments. Until then, I'm going to be asking you some questions- they're very simple, you need only blink once for yes and twice for no, okay?"

Frodo blinked once, showing he understood.

"Alright...Were you aware that you had been bitten by a spider, Mr. Frodo?" Blink. "Were you aware you were allergic to spiders?" Blink blink. "I was hoping you were aware, though I suppose now is better than never to tell you. The spider that bit you was an orb spider, which usually don't live around your home, Bags End, or so your friend, Mr. Brandybuck, has informed me. Luckily for you, Mr. Brandybuck called 911 just in time for us to treat you, though you'll be here for a while longer for observation. Did your parents not tell you about this allergy, Mr. Frodo?" Frodo blinked twice and looked away from the doctor. How could his parents tell him if they died a long time ago? "Mr. Frodo, were you adopted?" Blink. "Ah, I see. Well, we'll make sure this is added to your medical history. I'll have the nurse come in and take that tube out."

With that, the doctor left and Frodo was alone again. He looked around him, noting that he was hooked up to the usual things someone in his case would be hooked up to. Apparently he was also hooked up to something that was breathing for him, though when the nurse came in and turned it off, he could see it was in case he stopped breathing, as he could breathe just fine on his own. The nurse gave him some water to drink and helped him sit up. "Are you up to having visitors, Mr. Frodo? Your friends haven't been told that you were awake yet- we can let them know at a time that you're more comfortable with, if you like?"

Hoarsely, Frodo replied, "I'm alright. Can they come in?"

The nurse nodded and left to go fetch his friends. Boy, he wasn't really up to seeing them just yet, but he had to know the full story- and sooner would be better than later.


	9. Ch 9 - Oh My

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Smaug talk on a balcony after something was worked out for the Manor- temporarily, of course.

"Now, until we can have the magistrate and a lawyer come here and sort this mess out, we'll have to continue with the bargain already struck," said Gandalf, filing the contract away into a cabinet in his room. The conversation over Thorin and Smaug's situation had grew out of hand, so much so that the meeting was adjourned until everyone could collect themselves. Once they all had a level head, or at least those it most concerned, everyone met in Gandalf's room to discuss things further over a brew of tea or scotch, whichever each person would like. "Meaning Smaug stays as a guest and Thorin, you keep your choice words to yourself." 

Bilbo raised his hand and Gandalf nodded to him, wordlessly granting him permission to speak. "Gandalf, if you could have done this easily without me saying next to nothing, then why am I needed here?" 

"A good question," seconded Balin, giving Bilbo a nod of respect, "No disrespect, Bilbo, but you have a point. Why did you call Bilbo here, Gandalf, if this is something you've seem to have settled neatly on your own? What are you not telling us, good friend?" The other Durin folk nodded or voiced their agreement that they, too, wished to know the meaning behind Bilbo being there. 

The old man sat back in his chair, a slight smile on his face, "I asked Master Baggins here because it has been quite a while since I have seen him and he's good company." Everyone agreed, Bilbo was great to have around, even for a little while, and Gandalf continued, "But he's also great with his words and is a wonderful mediator. I know that two of you will need him here else you say or do something too far in the wrong direction." 

Bilbo and the others knew who Gandalf spoke of - in fact the entire company and Hobbit rested their eyes on either Thorin or Smaug. The two avoided their gazes, knowing there was no denying it. The silence that followed was thick like fog, but quickly dispersed by the tall, old man, "Well, if that is all that needs to be said, I suggest we all go about our business. Until the next meeting." 

One by one, everyone rose and filed out to either go retire in their room or see to whatever they needed to. Bilbo made his way quietly and slowly to his room, which Balin was dutiful on directing him to. The room was large, far more so than his own room back home. The wall was painted a soft rose color and trimmed in white molding at the base and top of the walls. The ceiling was also white, he noted, and the floor was wooden and was recently mopped and waxed. The curtains covered tall windows and were of a maroon coloring- the center ones by the king-size bed clad in a red bedspread- hid a double French door that opened up to a balcony. A smile grew on Bilbo's face as he hurried to his luggage and dug out his pipe and tobacco- and a light- before making his way to the balcony for a smoke. 

The cool evening air was delightful, almost like it was tailored to his desires. He wished it was like this back in Hobbiton, but he'd make due. Bilbo made himself comfortable next to the railing of the balcony and prepared his pipe before lighting it, taking in a long drag that he exhaled slowly. It was a nasty habit, smoking pipe weed, but it helped him relax. Crickets chirped at him down below in the grass and fireflies danced around lazily. It felt... Peaceful. 

After a moment or two, a knock on the French door stole his attention and he looked to see who it was. Smaug stood there, looking a little lost but also rather worn out. Bilbo smiled in sympathy and waved him over, gesturing to a seat next to him. The bronze skinned man sat without being told twice and pulled a cigarette out of his sleeve. Without a word, Bilbo offered him his lighter and the man accepted it with a nod of thanks before lighting up. For a while they sat in silence, smoke rings and tendrils drifting away from them on the gentle evening breezes.

Bilbo looked over and saw that Smaug was watching him. The Hobbit raised a brow at him, "Something a miss?" 

Smaug smiled a little and shrugged, "Not really.. Just had something on my mind that was kinda... Piquing my interest."

"Oh...what?"

"On our way here... You said you hadn't a missus. Why is that? Divorce, widower, or..?" 

"Ah. Just not interested, actually," said Bilbo, offering his own shrug. Smaug tilted his head forward, silently bidding Bilbo to continue. The Hobbit cleared his throat and did so, "You see... It's not that I don't swing that way it's just... Growing up, I was so used to the idea that you had to have a relationship, and that people could start one up easily... But, everyone also seemed to be able to do so easily because they were normal. I was unable to fall in love, so to speak."

"That is not an abnormal thing. There are people who are married and do not love their spouse. My parents were of such people- they respected each other and we're happy together, but they did not love each other," stated Smaug, sitting back. 

Bilbo fidgeted. "I know... What I'm getting at is that I had zero interest in.. Um.." He made a sexual gesture with his hands. 

"Oh... Oh! Well... That's uncommon, kinda, but not unheard of. Is it... Still that way?"

Again Bilbo shrugged. "I don't know," he said, looking back to the flitting fireflies along the yard, "And I'm quite content with not finding out. It would get in the way of my work and I can't afford to do that."

Silence filled the evening air as the two just stared out beyond. Not quite the way to end the subject... Perhaps it was a subject they should have not messed with. Bilbo sure thought so as he took a drag of his pipe. He didn't notice that Smaug had stood up and came up next to him until the bronze skinned man had put his hand on Bilbo's chin before he could exhale the smoke and captured the Hobbit's lips. The warmth on his lips felt so inviting and so invigorating, yet also like Smaug was only testing the waters, holding back. Still, Bilbo's eyes were blown open wide as he gasped, the smoke gushing into Smaug's mouth before he pulled away, his back hitting the railing. The man smirked a little as he blew the smoke out of his flared nostrils and then tipped his head forward. 

"Good night, Bilbo," he murmured. And then he left. And Bilbo was left very startled and very confused. What the hell just happened?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all knew it was a ship. Ship kinda confirmed. Hope you guys liked this chapter!


	10. Ch 10 - Storms, Bathrooms, and Libraries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo needs some towels and apparent has a habit of running into people when he goes looking for them. However, he was quite happy with one run in...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terribly sorry that it's been a while since the last chapter. But it is getting closer to school resuming- yes, I'm going to school- so I'm left with odd times on getting things posted. But I'm sure that since these are small chapters, that's not much of a problem.

Storms are a scary thing, or so Bilbo believed. Yes, they can be nice and rejuvenating, but it only takes so much rain before a river floods; so much wind before a tree crashes down on your home; and a poorly timed lightning strike to leave you without power for a long time. Typically, Bilbo would feel safe in his home whenever it stormed. He would put a towel up against the front door in case his porch ever flooded; the windows were always double checked before torrents of rain would batter against the glass; and he knew where his emergency supplies was located in his house should the power go out, or worse, go out and the neighborhood be flooded, trapping him in his home. He had a back-up generator for the fridge, as spoiled food is a terrible thing to deal with. He kept the spare blankets and pillows in the closet that was his and Frodo's designated safe room should there be a tornado or hurricane like winds. His home was safe, in his mind, and was a comfort to him... 

However, this gods-forsaken manor was probably the opposite of a comfort. Not only was it rather old, but it had a million or so windows- actually it was more on the side of 50 or so- and almost all of them leaked. The one set in particular that leaked the most was of course the large windows in Bilbo's room and the french doors. The Hobbit hurried down the hall to find a linen closet or bathroom, but there wasn't one on his floor. _What kind of place doesn't have a bathroom on every floor? Was the bathroom turned into a broom closet?_ he wondered to himself as he made his way to the floor below him. Fortunately, the bathroom was right by the stairs, and probably placed there for those who resided on the floor above. However, someone was occupying that bathroom so Bilbo's search for a linen closet continued. He really needed to talk to those Durin folk about how things were placed about this manor. Was it that hard to get a closet freed up for towels and what not?

"I swear, the entire carpet is going to be soaked by the time I get back with the towels. They better talk to someone about getting a drain installed by those doors and windows to that balcony, or there is going to be a lot of mildew and mold upstairs. Come to think of it, how isn't there any?" Bilbo wondered aloud, rounding the corner and straight into someone's chest. He found himself being bounced back and would have landed flat on his behind if the person he ran into hadn't reached out to catch him. They even helped him right himself.

"Are you alright, Mr. Bilbo?" asked whoever it was.

Bilbo looked up to see it was just Ori, Dori and Nori's little brother. "Ah, yes, yes, quite alright- no, wait, not quite alright; my windows are leaking and I haven't any towels. Can you point out the nearest linen closet?"

"Linen closet? But you need towels, not linens. The bathroom is just down the way you came from."

"I know the bathroom is back there, but it's occupied- is there another bathroom nearby?"

"Well," started Ori with a thoughtful look, his arms crossed over his chest with one arm propped up for him to scratch at his whiskers with equal thoughtfulness, "that would depend on what you consider near. See, there's the bathroom back that way; then there is one down this hall and to the left, but mind you that this is a very long hall; if you go back upstairs, there is one on far end by your room- which I am surprised you didn't find; and if you go down stairs from here, there is a bathroom off of Gandalf's study, off of the kitchen, and off of Thorin's room. Now, there are also the few bathrooms that are attached to peoples bathrooms, however I haven't a clue who are in which room, so I recommend that you stick to these outter ones."

"Wait, so you're telling me that there's a bathroom around my room?" asked Bilbo, brows raised.

"Well of course there is! See here is your room," Ori held up one hand and drew a line away from it with his fingers of his other hand, "and if you go this way, you end up going to the stairs. But! You go the other way, about half way down the hall, you'll find a big bathroom. Suppose to be shared by you, Gloin, Oin, Fili, Kili, and that dragon guy. Granted, Gloin and Oin have a bathroom off of their room, so I guess it's more of you, Fili, Kili, and the dragon sharing the big bathroom-"

"Smaug is on my floor?"

"Technically, yes. I say that because he doesn't have a defined space to stay in- he was living in you room before you came, but I think Thorin had him moved down to the opposite end-"

"Why did Thorin do that? He could have given-" the Hobbit inquired, interrupting the dwarf yet again.

"-You a different room," finished Ori for Bilbo, nodding, "Yes, we all know that Thorin could have given you a different room, but Thorin likes to torment the poor dragon. Once told him supper was at 7 when it was actually at six and the poor lad missed it. Bombur saved him a plate though, so it wasn't too bad. Just lonely for ol' Smaug."

Bilbo frowned. He knew there was some tension going around between Thorin and Smaug, but he didn't think his friend would be that much of an ass towards the bronze skinned man. He felt a twinge of guilt over the room situation- only to remember he needed those towels! He thanked Ori for his help, apologized for bumping into him like he had, and scurried off to get towels from the bathroom that apparently was by his room. When Bilbo reached the bathroom, he found that it was designed like a dorm restroom; there were stalls for the toilets, but they had an air of fanciness to them, as were the shower stalls. He discovered there was a big bath tub behind a slightly ajar door, a tub that was big enough for maybe 3 or 4 people, provided they all wore suits if they were in there together. He gave a whistle of awe before his view was blocked by a bare chest and a towel wrapped waist. Bilbo gave a surprised noise as he jumped back, watching the door...close? Oh, guess whoever it was didn't notice him.

Shaking his head, he looked for the towels and found an entire counter was filled with them. Bilbo let out a sigh of relief as he gathered up four of the fluffy towels and hurried back to his room. All the while, he didn't realize that the man in the bath tub room was Smaug and was also very embarrassed that Bilbo had possibly seen him naked. 

"I better watch myself before I get in trouble with that Hobbit..." muttered the dragon as he toweled off. "Though that was sweet of him..."

\-----

Come the following evening, the storm had not eased in the slightest. A very mean lightning strike had the west wing's power off for a few hours- not that many noticed as only Smaug had a room on that end- and the entry way had a large puddle starting to build as no one cared to put a towel down in front of the big doors. Gandalf and the older Durin folk were gathered about in the den, drinking warm and soothing tea before a nice, toasty fire. Kili and Fili were moping about in the dining room, both wishing very much to go out and wrestle in the rain, but Thorin told them if they set one toe outside, he would tan their hides and use them for rugs in his study. Neither wanted that, so they followed his order...with complaints, no questions there. Good ol' Bombur was cooking up a nice, juicy roast for supper; Bifur and Bofur busied themselves with side dishes and dessert, all the while chattering about girls they knew in the past. Everyone else who wasn't accounted for were all either off in their rooms or gathered in the TV room, watching whatever they could agree upon.

Except for Bilbo, who was going about exploring the manor. He carried with him a notebook with a pen tied on so it wouldn't get lost or dropped on the floor; clipped to his belt was a little flashlight, in case the power went out in the rest of the building. He made a stop here and there, writing down where things were as well as descriptions of things that took his fancy. One such thing was a painting of a lakeside with autumn trees. Looking closely at it, Bilbo could tell it was an abstract piece, as the artist had used certain strokes and colors to give the impression that the viewer was looking at trees, when they were nothing but lines and patches. Bilbo took great detail to describe the piece in his notebook, wondering if he would reference it in one of his stories later. 

"Whatcha writing there-" started a voice behind him, startling him enough to cause him to give out a yelp and throw his notebook up into the air, the poor thing landing on the floor as he turned to see who was there.

"Oh! Good heavens- Smaug, you gave me a fright... Don't just sneak up on people like that, i-it's very bad taste," rasped Bilbo, trying to calm down.

Smaug crouched to retrieve Bilbo's notebook, handing it to him with his head tilted forward in apology, "My apologies, Mr. Baggins, I forget that I am quite stealthy and tend to surprise people. I only wondered what you were writing in your notebook and meant you no harm or offense."

"Oh... I-I was just writing notes about the manor. Kind of a map but in words of how the place is laid out," explained Bilbo.

The bronze skinned man raised a brow at him and regarded the painting behind him. He looked back at Bilbo and gestured to the painting, "Is this painting a landmark then? Not a very good one, if you ask me- I think that bust of some old man just down the way would be a better one. Or the carving in the wood of the beam just over our heads."

Bilbo looked down the hall at the bust- he wondered if it was someone related to Thorin or maybe someone who invested in his family's business. It wasn't a terrible bust, but...not something he'd keep an eye out for. Neither was the carving in the beam above them, which he had to squint at. Shaking his head, Bilbo opened his notebook to his description of the painting to his back. "No, no, it's not a landmark. I took down notes about it to possibly use as inspiration for one of my stories. I say possibly because I never know if I'll use it."

Smaug nodded and looked thoughtful for a moment before gesturing for Bilbo to follow him. He lead the way through the house to a big, oak door. A little plaque above glimmered a little in the dim lighting- dim as they were now in the west wing- but gave no hint as to where the two men were. The taller of the two dug out a key from his pocket and unlocked the big door before pushing it open. He gestured for Bilbo to wait where he was before Smaug vanished into the dark room. Bilbo peered into the gloom, but couldn't make out any details. _How can he see in there? It's black as night... Though this makes for an interesting scene-_ the Hobbit thought, jotting down a few quick notes about the dark room and what was going on. A scratching noise caught his attention and he peered into the room again, seeing a couple of sparks fly before a soft flame appeared. The fire grew, revealing a fire place and the silhouette of Smaug. The tall man grabbed a candle off of the mantle and used a little burner to light it, the smaller light illuminating his face. Bilbo kept writing notes in his notebook, wanting to capture the moment on paper- this was too good of a moment to waste on memory, which could twist it in whichever way.

As Smaug went about the room lighting more candles that placed here and there, Bilbo could see that the bronze skinned man had lead him to a library. A fairly big one too. The bookcases were very tall, almost 10 feet in height, and were full of books, many of which he hadn't heard of before. There was a big couch just off to the side of the fireplace, and a few pillows strewn across the floor. Bilbo noticed a blanket was tossed over the arm of the couch and that there was laundry under it. _So this is where Smaug is staying! Not as fancy as my room, but I'd trade this over that balcony view any time._

"You can come in now, my friend," said Smaug, shaking out the burner, leaving a wispy trail of smoke in the air. "Make yourself at home- I imagine you'll want to with all these books to look through for your inspiration."

Bilbo felt a bubble of giddiness building in his stomach- Smaug couldn't have guessed it more right even if the hobbit had declared it himself. Now... Where to start?


	11. Ch 11 - Location,  Location,  Location

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frodo is out of the hospital and finds himself in a place he wasn't expecting to be in on such short notice.

"Frodo, I really think we should tell your uncle about what happened. The hospital is going to tell him sooner or later-" 

"My uncle can find out later. And for your information, I have my own insurance so they have no need to tell him. And because it was an emergency, they're writing off my bill, so the only evidence I was even here is the report to my insurance company and this hospital bracelet," explained Frodo, interrupting his cousin, Pippin. 

"Well, that and the needle marks from IVs and what not. And the bite," pointed out Merry. 

Frodo nodded, glancing down at his arm which was decorated in pock marks from the IVs. He thought about the bite- it puzzled him greatly that it left an ugly stripe akin to the scar he no doubt received in his dream. The dream puzzled him even more. Why was he dresses the way he was, where the hell was he, and most importantly, who were those figures and why did they attack him. Frodo was so caught up in his thoughts that he wasn't aware of Sam shaking his arm, saying his name. 

"Huh- wha? What?" Frodo inquired, blinking at Sam and the others. 

"We were trying to ask if you're still alright with continuing the trip... Are you okay? You seem distracted."

"Ah...yeah,yeah I'm good. Good for the trip and good... In general. Was just wondering how Bilbo would react if I told him I had radioactive spider powers."

Frodo's friends burst out laughing, shaking their heads at the idea. "Let's see how that goes after the trip, aye?" mused Merry, still snickering. Sam and Pippin voiced their agreement and Frodo gave a nod, secretly glad they bought that ruse. 

With consent that Frodo could continue with the road trip, the quartet made their way back to the Pontiac, making jokes on their way about Bilbo, hospital foods, and how terrible they all slept last night- with the exception of Frodo, as he was out like a light. Curious as to the smaller details of the whole hospital adventure, Frodo asked about who were the paramedics, the nurses- heck, even the doctor, whose name he hadn't even caught. 

"Well, one of the nurses was named Aerwyn- lovely lass, but a little bird in the form of a ring on her finger told us that she was taken. Which is fine with me, she was too tall-" started Merry, an air of 'full of himself' hanging about him. 

"Aye, and then there was that paramedic who had a tan line on his finger that said a similar tale, except I didn't see no ring," finished Pippin, pointing a finger at the sky to gesture at the topic in general- or just because he talks with his hands sometimes. 

"That's because it was in his pocket, Pip. Saw the outline when he was checking on you, Mr. Frodo," pointed out Sam. 

"What was his name?" inquired Frodo. 

"Uh... Well, his buddies called him Strider, but a nurse called him Aragorn."

"So...what, is it Aragon Strider?"

Sam shrugged at Frodo, as did Pip and Merry. For all they knew, that could be the paramedic's name. 

"Well, what did this Aragorn fellow look like?"

"Don't call me gay for this, but I believe 'tall, rugged, handsome, and dark haired' would be the best way to describe the man," said Merry with a thoughtful look. "Had a deep but light voice if he was just talking plain with you, but as soon as he goes to give an order to anyone, his voice had an air of authority to it."

"I think he was the leader of that paramedic team, come to think of it. Shame we didn't talk to the others-"

"You would have found them boring," said someone with a voice just like how Merry described. The Hobbits turned all at once to see that the paramedic they had been conversing about was there before them in casual clothes instead of those of a paramedic. He nodded at them before continuing, "The driver was Gimli- we jokingly call him a dwarf, but that's due to his family being Durin folk. The paramedic that helped get you into the ambulance was Legolas. He's very serious despite what few jokes he'll make. He and Gimli graduated from Rivendell Medical Institute and I graduated from Gondor Hospice and Medical Institute."

"Rivendell- does that mean Legolas is an elf?" asked Sam, his attention caught by that one detail. 

"Yes, yes he is. Most of the people here are elves."

"Is this a sister city to Rivendell?"

Aragorn let out a laugh, "My friend, you are in Rivendell. The doctor who saw to your friend is friends with the mayor, Elrond." 

"How did you not know we were in Rivendell?" Merry asked Sam, raising a brow at him. 

"Was kinda too much in a panic to realize we came here- but guys, we made it!"

"And it only took a spider bite to realize it," jested Pippin. All of them laughed save for Frodo and Aragorn. That was too serious of a thing for the former to the laugh at but the latter just smiled a little. 

"But wait- what do we do now..?" asked Merry. 

"Hell if I know- I'm gunna go talk to an elf!" Sam exclaimed, running off with Pippin tow. 

"Oh, bother... "sighed Merry- now Frodo and Aragorn let out a laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the short chapter; didn't exactly plan this one out as I would have liked.


	12. Ch 12 - Strange Surroundings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Frodo and Bilbo have noticed something odd going on with their surroundings. Could it be their imaginations or is something else going on?

"Hey, Sam... You doing alright? I understand that you were pretty excited to come to Rivendell, but after you were out all day yesterday, you kinda... seem down," Frodo inquired, taking a seat next to his friend. It was roughly 8 in the morning and the two of them were waiting for Pippin and Merry to come downstairs from the hotel room so that all of them could have breakfast together. Frodo imagined that would be a while, as Merry had just woken up and Pippin was making kissing faces at his pillow while he was still asleep. 

When Sam had returned rather early that night, he looked a bit on the depressed side. Sure, he told his companions about how lovely the city was and where he had gone off to, but his shoulders slumped a bit if he mentioned an elf. Frodo made a note to ask him about it and was thankful that he remembered the following morning. 

Sam rubbed his face with a sigh before looking at the ground. "I was...but then I realized that the so-called elves are just really tall people. Nothing is special about them other than that- well... they're kinda on the 'super model' side of things, but that's still just it."

"What were you expecting them to be like?" asked Frodo.

"...Magical. Like in story books."

Frodo smirked for a moment before everything changed around him. The grey and light tan walls of the hotel lobby were replaced by a courtyard with old looking arches over pathways. The people who milled about were suddenly dressed in clothing better suited for a medieval play- and most of them had noticeably pointed ears and had much sharper. A couple of them looked his way before going about their business, murmuring in some language that he couldn't understand. When Frodo looked down at himself, he was back in the strange clothing that he had been wearing when he was stabbed in his dream, minus his cloak. Looking to the side, he noted that Sam's wardrobe had changed as well, taking on the same appearance as what he wore when they had been in that ruin- an off white button up, striped tan vest, dusky brown trews, and no shoes to be seen nor socks. Frodo could have sworn his feet were hairy and much bigger than he knew Sam to have; apparently his own feet were in the same condition, which made his mind spin a bit. He tried to see more about this new setting, but alas, the world returned to its normal appearance just as quick as it had changed to that other world. He shook his head as he blinked at the lobby walls, wondering if he was just daydreaming or if something else was going on.

"Like in story books... Did they have pointed ears and medieval clothing in the story books?" Frodo asked Sam.

Sam gave him a shrug, "I suppose it depends on who wrote the stories. Come to think of it, weren't you thinking of writing a fantasy book, Mr. Frodo?"

"Yeah.... I think I was. Guess I'll have to see if I still want to when I get back home."

"Reckon you might use anything from the trip in it?" asked Sam.

Frodo thought for a moment before giving a nod. He had a lot he could use for the possible book: the spider bite incident, the mysterious Aragorn and his friends Gimli and Legolas, and even the stay in the hotel room. Above all, he considered the funky dreams he had been having might be the key to applying a different setting to his book, as weird as it seems. "I just might write down the whole trip with some tweaks here and there, though I don't know if people would be fine with me using their names... There's a few I really like..."

Before Sam could inquire about which ones, the two heard the familiar loud voices of Merry and Pippin joking around with each other from across the lobby. With a pair of groans, Frodo and Sam got up and went over to join them, the quartet making their way to the hotel's breakfast buffet. While the meal was delicious, perhaps the best they would have for the remainder of their stay in Rivendell, Frodo's mind was too preoccupied by the... well, he suppose he had a vision when he put his mind to it. It left him with so many questions, and it didn't look like the would have any answers coming his way in the near future.

\-----

Back in Erebor, Bilbo was at sorts with himself. When he awoke that morning, it felt like it was going to be a very normal day for him, until he noticed that his room didn't seem quite right. He looked around as he sat in his bed at the arches that served as his windows and the forest that swayed gently in the morning breeze just past the stonework. However, when he rubbed at his eyes and did a double take, he found that his room was back to its usual state. Closing his eyes and looking a third time, he let out a relieved sigh- it was just his imagination toying with him, no doubt from just waking up. The Hobbit climbed out of bed and shimmied his feet into a nice pair of slippers before making his way on out the door to find the bathroom. Morning mannerisms taken care of, he returned to his room to change; but he was left flabbergasted as the room was back to the archway windows and what not. The only difference this time is that when he rubbed at his eyes, it stayed that way.

Curious, he ventured further into the room, finding that his suitcase had transformed into a chest and that the lamp which sat on a remotely still recognizable desk had turned into a lantern. He looked down at his clothing to find them to...still be the same. "What in the devils is going on here?" 

"Something wrong, Master Baggins?" asked a familiar voice, though not one that left him shy like some school girl. Bilbo looked over his shoulder to see Balin, who gave him an odd look, standing in his open doorway. Did he look different to him? Looking back at the windows- which were normal again- he warranted that he just looked confused and not at all like he was in some chameleon room. 

"No, no... I um... Just thought I left my change of clothes on my bed, but it looks like I was only thinking of yesterday. Time flies when you're having fun, wouldn't you agree, my friend?"

Balin's features softened as he nodded in agreement, "Indeed it does. Hopefully it doesn't fly too fast that you miss everything going around you. Will you be joining us for breakfast, then?"

"Yes, yes, just give me a few moments to change and I'll accompany you on downstairs."

Balin nodded again and closed the door to give Bilbo some privacy. The Hobbit sighed softly and shook his head, telling himself to cease with this daydreaming fiasco. He hurried about to get ready for the day, though kept his comfy slippers on instead of his loafers- as comfy as they were, he honestly couldn't stand walking in them all day in the Manor. Once decent, he joined Balin in the hall and the two made their way down to breakfast. As they walked, Bilbo made a thoughtful face. 

"Balin... Have you had any moments where your surroundings change about you, looking not quite as they seem, before going back to the way they were?"

"I can't say I have- not while sober, that is. I reckon there has been a time or two where I nodded off slightly in a strong brew and thought I was sinking into the embrace of a lover, only to realize I was almost drowning in my own drink. But beyond that, I don't believe I have had such an experience as you describe."

"Ah... I suppose my mind must be snatching up ideas for my next story and would like me to hurry about getting to it," Bilbo said with a laugh.

"True, you may be overcoming that writer's block you mentioned... or maybe you're just too cooped up in this old place and need some fresh air. The lads and I were dancing about the idea of going to Dale for some fun- care to come with?"

"Oh, that would be a treat- I haven't been to Dale in a long, long time. Will I need to change my clothes?"

Balin gave him a look over and nodded to his slippers, "You might want to leave those here and take those loafers of yours- at least then you'll look like a comfy old man, rather than a lost one who just got out of bed." The two of them shared a laugh, as it was quite humorous that Balin was making such a joke when he was much older than Bilbo.

"I suppose that's true- I should probably put on something more...business casual, not these old house appropriate rags."

"I believe we might have something in storage that you could give a spin- have Smaug take you to the attic and see what you can find." Bilbo felt his chest tighten a bit at the mention of the bronze skinned man's name. While the man was a pleasure to hang about, he gave the Hobbit butterflies when he got close or was alone with him. Shaking the feeling off before Balin could take note, Bilbo gave a nod in agreement to speak to the man about the attic. No sense in letting a little feeling stop him from having a good time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like I left y'all hanging for a lil' while there. But hopefully things will still keep you into the story as things go on. I am attending college classes and they seem to be holding quite a bit of my attention as of late, but it is just the beginning of the semester, so I reckon things will settle soon as I get back into the swing of things. However, I also have the possibility of getting a job soon so there is that to worry about to. Fingers crossed that it'll all go well and I'll be able to give you more to read!


	13. Ch 13 - Watch Your Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo finds himself in a little bit of a mess when he goes looking for Smaug so that he could get changed for the trip to Dale. Apparently the Hobbit has quite a temper when he's pushed too far.

When Balin told Bilbo to find Smaug and have him take the Hobbit to the attic, Bilbo had assumed that it would be as easy as going into the dining room where breakfast was serve, tap on his shoulder, and ask him to do so. However, the Hobbit didn't take into consideration that the man wouldn't be present for breakfast and that even if he had, it would have been rude of him to not dine first. While the meal was delicious- as it usually was whenever Bombur was in charge of the meal... no offense to Bifur and Bofur, who were great cooks but not in the breakfast department- Bilbo found himself looking up to the doorways of the dining room in a very distracted manner. _Is Mr. Firedrake still asleep? Or is he eating in the kitchen again...?_ Bilbo wondered, poking at his eggs and hash-browns.

"Oi, Bilbo- something bothering you or something?" asked Kili, leaning in close to get the Hobbit's attention.

Bilbo shook his head with a sheepish smile, "No, no. Just thinking about things."

"What kind of things? Book things, Hobbity things- is it a girl? Is she pretty? Has she a sister?" pestered the flirtatious Durin lad, grinning cheekily at Bilbo. His brother pulled him back proper into his seat before cuffing the back of his head, making him wince and voice a complaint, "What the hell was that for?!"

"Watch yourself, brother- or do you want sweet Tauriel to find out that you're trying to fancy other women?" questioned Fili, pointing his fork at him accusingly. Bilbo remembered the elf of whom Fili spoke of- she and Kili started to date a few years ago when she was starting out college at Mirkwood University. According to a letter from Gandalf, the twins had both been accepted there for a two-year ride, but both had dropped out; Kili ended up totally smittened with Tauriel shortly after he met her in one of his classes. It wasn't like Gandalf to write about the love lives of his companions, but a post signature note informed him that Kili wanted to tell Bilbo about her. Shortly after that, Kili sent his own letter to Bilbo, which practically oozed the lad's affection towards the lady elf. _Ah, young love..._ Bilbo thought as he recalled the memory.

Kili flinched and looked down at his breakfast with a pale face. "Please don't tell her- I'd rather not have a repeat of last time."

Bilbo wanted to laugh but he wasn't understanding why Kili was behaving this way. "What happened last time, if you don't mind me asking?"

Across the table, Dwalin let out a loud belch before laughing like he heard the biggest joke. He set down his mug of ale- who in the world drinks ale so early in the morning?- before pointing at Kili, "This little flirt thought Tauriel wouldn't mind a bit if he talked with some bar maid when were last in Dale. Oh, I reckon she wouldn't have mind- if she hadn't been sitting right next to him while he spoke to the girl, letting his other head do the thinking!"

Everyone let out laughs of varying volumes while Kili sank in his chair, a flare of red burning up his face. Fili clapped him on the back, saying, "No worries brother- I'm sure Tauriel will go easy on you if she catches wind of how stinking adorable ya look when you're beet-red in the face with embarrassment!"

Bilbo covered his mouth to hide his chuckles as the poor lad slumped forward to hide his face in his cream o' wheat, bringing out another round of laughs from his kinsmen. The scene had lightened the feeling he had in regards of Smaug's whereabouts, allowing him to finish his breakfast with little trouble. Once he was finished, he dismissed himself so that he could go search for the absent man- after all, he needed to get up to the attic sooner rather than later.

\-----

"Why is it, that out of all the places I'd expect to find you, this is one place I didn't even fathom you being in?" demanded a slightly winded Bilbo.

After he had left the dining room, he had checked in the kitchen for Smaug, only for Bombur to tell him that he had been there before breakfast was even served to have a quick meal from last night's leftovers. The robust Durin man was able to give him a clue that Bifur had seen him heading towards the stairs after he left. However, when Bilbo reached the stairs, there was no sign or trace that the bronze-skinned man had even been there. Left at a dead end, Bilbo sought out Bifur to see if he knew where Smaug had been heading. According to him, he was heading upstairs and no one has seen him downstairs since then. Thanking him, Bilbo hurried on upstairs to continue his search on the second floor. His first thought was to check the library, but it was empty; the bathroom also proved to be empty as well, including the room where the bath tub was held. The Hobbit ran into Nori, who told him that he saw Smaug in the garden at some point that morning. 

Bilbo had no idea that the garden was very large until he had spent nearly 2 hours traversing the entirety of it in search of Smaug. He was very tired by then and his slippers were practically ruined from the mud that was left after the storm from the day before. The poor man grumbled as he headed back inside, but stopped in his tracks when he saw something walk past one of the windows on the second floor. Looking up, Bilbo squinted at the next window. Swearing quite loudly, he ran into the Manor and made his way upstairs, stomping as he went. This was a poor choice on his part, as he slipped on the second floor's landing because of his soggy slippers. The slip left him sprawled awkwardly on the wooden floor and more grumbly than he had been down in the garden. Using the railing post as a support, Bilbo pulled himself up and off the floor, wincing at the painful twinge he received from his right ankle. Thinking nothing of it, he hobbled towards where he had spotted Smaug from outside. Alas, the man wasn't there and Bilbo was just about to scream for him to come out already...

But then, faintly, the Hobbit heard someone humming. He whipped around to find the source of the sound, seeing no one at first. But when he stood still and listened more closely, he found that it was coming from one of the rooms. Realizing where he was, Bilbo seethed as he hobbled over to the door that was his room and slammed it open. There, relaxing on his bed, was Smaug- the bastard was even reading one of his books! The bronze-skinned man looked up at the disturbance, just in time to catch a filthy slipper in the face.

"Do you have any idea how long I've been looking for you? Goodness man, I should put a bell on you so that someone can at least hear where the bloody hell you are!" fumed Bilbo, hopping on one foot as he tried to remove his other slipper to throw it after its twin; his outburst had left him forgetting about his injury and he collapsed with a hiss of pain when the angry ankle sent a flare of agony up his leg.

Although not very happy with being hit in the face with a dirty slipper, Smaug hurried off the bed and over to Bilbo, crouching to see what was the matter. Under a layer of drying mud, he could see the angry redness spreading around Bilbo's ankle. When he went to prod at it to test the extent of the damage, the Hobbit smacked his hand away. Before Smaug could explain what he was trying to do, Bilbo slapped him across the face, stunning him.

"I can understand a child playing hide and seek... I can understand if someone wants a moment of peace and to be alone for a while... But one thing I don't understand nor tolerate is you sneaking about the place, leading me on a wild goose chase, just to find you here, messing with my stuff!" snapped Bilbo, glaring at the man. "Have you no sense of respect for one's privacy? Or letting someone know where you're going to be at?"

Smaug blinked at the Hobbit, slowly lifting a hand up to his slightly stinging cheek. When he didn't answer the shorter man, Bilbo went to smack him again; Smaug caught his wrists before he could land a hit on him. The Hobbit tried to pull his hands away, letting out angry noises and demanding that Smaug let him go; instead, the man pulled him over and held onto him, like a parent would hold a child when they were upset. Bilbo struggled and said mean things to the man, eventually get so emotionally riled up that he didn't notice he was crying until he felt his body shaking with sobs. Smaug rubbed his back, letting the smaller man sob into the cloth of his shirt. They stayed that way for a while, probably for almost half an hour, before Bilbo had ran his course and calmed down. 

"...Better?" asked Smaug in a gentle tone. Bilbo nodded mutely. "Let's get you cleaned up then and see to that ankle. Can you stand?"

Bilbo tried to move his ankle to see if he could do so, but seized up when it screamed at him. He shook his head and Smaug gave a sigh.

"It can't be helped," he said- Bilbo didn't understand what he meant but gave a surprised noise when the man lifted him up with an arm around his back and the other under his knees. Smaug groaned as he stood up, stumbling a little as he adjusted to holding up the Hobbit. "Wasn't expecting you to be this...stocky. Is this common for Shire folk?"

"I'm kinda on the lower end of that scale, if that's what you mean... I'm sorry that you have to carry me, though you could have just let me use you as a crutch," said Bilbo, a little pink in the face.

Smaug smirked at him as he carried Bilbo out of the room and towards the bathroom, "You're too short to use me as a crutch. And it's no trouble- I suppose I should apologize for leading up to your ankle getting hurt."

"Seriously thinking you need a bell," mumbled Bilbo. The bouncing of Smaug's stride made his face scrunch up a bit at the soft throbbing of his injury. Thankfully the bathroom wasn't too far and the tall man set him down on the counter. 

"I have a better idea-" Smaug said, pulling out a cell phone from his back pocket. He opened his contacts and handed the device over to Bilbo. "Put your number in there and I'll send you a text later. Then, should you need me for anything and you can't find me in the nearby vicinity, you can shoot me a text of where to meet you. That way you won't have another spill because you were running around looking for me."

Bilbo nodded and did as he was told while Smaug fetched a wash rag and a first aid kit. The Hobbit watched as the dragon tended to his injury with utmost care, like the ankle would shatter at any moment. The action seemed...sweet. But not sweet enough that the Hobbit would want to get hurt again just so it could be repeated at any point in time. Looking at Smaug's reddened cheek, Bilbo felt ashamed of himself.

"Sorry...for um, for hitting you...and yelling at you. I shouldn't have acted out that way when you didn't do anything to warrant that kind of behavior from me."

Smaug looked up him, pausing in the middle of wrapping Bilbo's ankle with stiff-cloth. He blinked a few times before offering a sweet yet small smile, "No need to apologize, little one."

Bilbo chewed the inside of his cheek as he looked away- oh goodness, he was pouting!- before mumbling, "I'm not that little...you're just really tall." He felt his cheeks redden at the soft laugh Smaug gave him before the dragon continued to wrap his ankle. _I swear, this man is going to the death of me... But...at least he's caring._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so tempted to have Smaug give Bilbo a kiss when Bilbo was mad, but decided not to. I hope you don't mind the slight...anime... feel the ankle scene gives.


	14. Ch 14 - More Than Meets the Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frodo and Bilbo keep seeing this weird other world. But it seems there is more to meet the eye, at least for one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terribly sorry for not updating in a long, long while. I started school up again and... Lost track of things. So I hope this makes up for things.

Dreams and visions continued to plague Frodo as the boys continued their trip, extending it to Moria in the mountains. It gave the Hobbit a mighty fine headache as he watched the world around him go back and forth between modern and medieval. As the hours went on, he found that he was enjoying the simple country side of medieval Middle Earth than the modern highway full of cars and trash. It felt nice, even if he was riding atop a pony instead of the back of Aragorn's RV. The pony itself was a soft tan in color with tangled cornsilk hair for a mane. Looking at his companions, he noted that Pippin and Merry were riding strawberry roans and Sam was on a tired looking dusty bay. Frodo smiled when Sam leaned forward and told the pony- Bill- that it was doing a good job; Sam also promised Bill an apple whenever they were going to stop for their next meal.

Just as quickly as the other world shows up, it vanished and Frodo was back in the RV. Everyone was chattering, not at all like they had before. Gimli, who had joined them alongside Aragorn and Legolas, let out a roaring laugh at the latter's joke. Frodo laughed a little, just to feign that he was paying attention. 

"Hey, Frodo, does Bilbo mind you going on such a trip?" asked Sam. 

"Bilbo? Hey, laddie, are you letting on about the same Bilbo Baggins that's friends with Gandalf? Went on a trip in his younger years and what not?" asked Gimli. 

"The very same, yeah. You know him?"

"Not personally- he's friends my da and uncles. My ol' man Bombur told me how Bilbo sprung them all from trouble and even win back their home in Erebor."

"All Bilbo did was prove to the police that your folks were innocent from theft and then caught the man who was the real thief," pointed out Frodo, smirking. 

"Ah, laddie, you got no humor with adventurous tales. Remind me to tell you about my cousin in Moria- better yet, we'll listen to him talk about himself!" Gimli said with a burst of laughter. 

Frodo shook his head, grinning to himself. What a company.

~~~~~

"There's got to be a reason behind all this. Why am I the only one seeing this weird illusion?" muttered Bilbo, pacing gingerly in his room. Smaug had left him there after he tended to his rolled ankle. It pained him yet but after taking some pain killers and anti-inflammatories, he was able to walk around at the very least. 

To Bilbo's knowledge, none of the company nor Smaug could see the weird world that would come out of nowhere. If they did know of it, they were plenty used to it and probably didn't want to think about it. It could be an anomaly of some sort that's harmless or something. Still, having the modern world vanish off and on was proving to be bothersome, even if it was a nice nature scene about the windows...well it had been. 

In the last hour alone, the greenery alone has changed to a stoney grey of stone, twinkling occasionally with glitters in the rock. It also got hotter the closer he would go to Smaug's room, which he noted earlier during his run around. Because Smaug told him to stay in his room until he came back with lunch, Bilbo couldn't investigate the cause behind the increased temperature around the man's room. That, and the other world wasn't showing up at the current time. 

Bilbo puttered about some more before he heard Smaug come in, the man announcing his return in a cheery tone. The Hobbit looked at him and whistled at the tray of food he brought with him. Smaug handed it to him carefully, saying he was going to pull the desk out for them to sit at together. Nodding absently, Bilbo looked at the food, noting that it was definitely not Bombur's cooking- it was too elegant. 

"Did you make this?" asked the Hobbit, looking over to Smaug as he moved the desk. 

"Indeed I did. Bombur and Bifur weren't in the kitchen so I had no choice. I hope you like it- don't cook for others often so I had to cut down on my usual spices and what not."

"They're sandwiches... "

"But good sandwiches," mused Smaug, bring over chairs. Bilbo set down the tray with a little laugh before they sat themselves down. 

"Ankle alright?" asked Smaug, taking one of the sandwiches and biting into it. 

Bilbo nodded. "Hardly a twinge... I'm still sorry about slapping you." 

Smaug waved his hand, dismissing what he said. "Don't worry about it."

Bilbo shrugged before going to take a bite of the sandwich but stopped himself." Smaug... Do strange happenings go on in this house?"

"What do you mean?"

"Things not seeming like what they seem?"

"Well... I'm not sure. Give me an example."

Bilbo sighed, "No, never mind. I'm sure those meds are messing with me-" he cut off when the room changed and almost screamed, only to find his voice stuck in his throat. Smaug wasn't human anymore- it was so unlike before, he hardly could tell if he ever had been human. Smaug was taller and covered in red scales. Two horns twisted away from his forehead and fangs like knives stuck out of his maw of a mouth. A pair of wings poked out over his shoulders whilst they were tucked against his back; all in all, an intimidating creature that was stuck as half man and half beast. 

It was scarier as he spoke: "Are you alright, Bilbo?" 

Bilbo swallowed very hard. It was a perfect time to ask about the other world. 

"Do you always have scales or am I going crazy?"

Bilbo steeled himself for the answer, for the man-beast in front of him to tell him that he was crazy, for him to confront him for such an insult. But the answer he received was far different. 

"We were wondering when you would start seeing the other side."

"Other side- wait, we?"

Smaug nodded, a scary sight to behold. "The company wanted you to come along because they know you would not mind this all. After all, you write about this all the time."

"Now hold on there-" 

"Eat you sandwich, we'll talk more soon."

Bilbo's mouth clamped shut and he picked up the sandwich without him telling his body to do so. He panicked in his mind as he ate his sandwich, his body not under his control. What the hell did he get himself into?


	15. Ch 15 - Careful Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing where the previous chapter left off- Bilbo learns something very new. And he hates it very, very much.

"Finished?" asked Smaug, lazily regarding Bilbo who sat across the desk from him. The Hobbit nodded, lips pressed tight and not from the magicking that Smaug had done to him. "Good. I'm going to ask that you keep your questions simple and please skip the hysterics- already had deal with enough of those this week alone."

Bilbo felt himself shiver from the magic keeping him rooted and obedient lift away from him, leaving him to himself once more. He rested his elbows on the desk and cupped his face. His head swum with questions and frankly, even finding one to start with was tiresome. _Goodness, there's just too many questions. Each probably branching off another or just rephrasing itself. In entirety, this man sounds like a lunatic, but considering how he looks the way he looks and did whatever that thing was, I can't really doubt him. I suppose there is only one place to start..._

Drawing himself up proper, letting his hands rest in his lap, Bilbo let out a sigh. "Alright.... Let's take this back to the beginning- what caused all of this?"

Smaug's lip twisted up a little in a slight smile. "I can't explain that myself, though I can say that Gandalf has a big hand in it. He has a hand in everything- even right now, he has his nimble, old fingers in the cookie jar down in the kitchen."

"...Does he really?"

"Yes. Old man can't help himself- they're oatmeal raisin cookies, one of his favorites."

Bilbo made a mental note to question Gandalf about this other worldly business; he also made a note to bring along those cookies. Perhaps it would serve as a nice bribe. "Alright, so Gandalf's responsible- if only partly- for this...weird other worldly business. Where do you come in on this with the whole..." he gestured to the entirety of Smaug, even though he was back to looking like a human. 

"That bit I can explain. See, a week before you arrived, I didn't exist here- I existed in the other Erebor. This city sits on a lei line- a magic holding one. When cities sit atop one and have almost the same people and everything, they start merging. Thankfully this only effects special people, and to a run-of-the-mill anybody doesn't notice anything going on and never will. However, those who aren't a normal anybody, they do notice things. We were surprised that you hadn't noticed anything off about the shire, until we realized that the lei line it used to sit on had gone dormant sometime before you started school. Anyways, I lived in the other Erebor, the one that exists in a world of magic. I was...in truth nothing akin to that image you saw moments ago. I was much, much bigger, and frankly more ill-tempered. When I was left stuck here due to Gandalf, I was left feeling quite lost. This worked out in the end- Balin said that I was too tame to cause a fuss and convinced Thorin to let me stay until this mess is figured out." Smaug didn't even sound winded from such an explanation.

Bilbo, on the other hand, surely did feel it. "So there's two Erebors; you're from the second one; Gandalf did something; and only special people can see what is going on... How do I fit into that?"

"...Only special people can see what is going on. If you're seeing this, you're special," Smaug deadpanned.

"I am not special! Never have been, never will be, and I'm quite happy staying that way! Do you know what happens when a Hobbit draws too much attention to himself? Social outcast! Too much adventure is not good for us simple folk!" Bilbo stood from his seat and started pacing as he spoke. No, he couldn't be special- sure, he was related to the Tooks who were a bit off, but he was not special! He was just Bilbo!

Smaug stood and went over to him, pulling him to a stop. "Bilbo, I understand that you want to be normal. I get it. But you can't run from the truth- not this one, at least. If you were to talk about this to anyone else, they would call you mad."

"Why would I want to talk about this to anyone? I want this all to just...to just stop. Have you any idea how much it's been hurting to see everything change to one thing and then back again?"

"Yes, I do. We all do. That's why we need your help, Bilbo...and probably your nephew's help too."

Bilbo blinked a few times. "My nephew's... Frodo? Why do you need him? Surely he doesn't see like this too?"

Smaug gave a slow, grim nod. "He does. Gandalf told us he did- that last time he met him? He gave him a test and he passed it better than you did. See, he can see the other world in his dreams but also at will. Or at least, he could when he was young. We're not so sure now, and would have asked you to bring him along, but Gandalf wanted us to take this one step at a time, starting with you, naturally."

"Frodo never mentioned this... Though that was just shortly after his parents passed. Tell me, has Gandalf given me such a test without my knowing?" asked Bilbo, raising a brow and crossing his arms.

"He didn't have to. The evidence was clear in your books. But it was subtle back when Frodo was younger- you could have easily mistook it as day dreaming. It's stronger now because of the lei line. We would have brought it up sooner, but if we had done so, it would have been bad for you. You can't tell someone that they are seeing another world without knowing if they are seeing it. That's why we- well, I- waited until you brought it up. It's the only reason why this conversation is even going on."

Bilbo reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. Wrapping his head around all of this was earning him a headache. What he would give to have some tea right now... He shook his head and clapped his hands once before patting his sides. "Right then! I think I need some fresh air, maybe some ale, and maybe a dunk in cold water to snap myself out of this crazy illusion I'm giving myself. Clearly I'm imaging it all for my book, yes, it must be that!" He went to leave but found his feet rooted to the spot, a magic shiver running up his spine.

"Bilbo, please take this seriously!" pleaded Smaug.

Bilbo shook his head and imagined himself pushing away everything just to be left alone. A loud cracking noise sound and next thing he knew, he was falling down into the room below his- the downstairs bathroom. He landed in the big tub and had to quickly shield his face with his arms as rubble from upstairs fell around him with a whoosh of dust and wood splinters. He let out a cough, as did Smaug up above him. He lowered his arms and shook his head, sending dust flying which left him sneezing a bit. Bilbo looked up at the hole of his room, spotting Smaug peeking over the edge.

"Are you alright?" asked the bronze-skinned man.

"...Did I do that?"

"Yes. Hold on, I'm coming down...as soon as I can figure out how in a safely manner."

Bilbo lowered his gaze too look around himself. The room was a mess, and he was too. Did he really do that? But, how? Of course, it dawned on him after a few moments, leaving him to gasp in realization, "I have magic." A feeling of dread shortly washed over him and he threw his head back- carefully- with a groan, "Oh gods, no...No, no, no, this can't be happening. No, I can't have magic! No, no, noooo..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like Bilbo is special! And so is Frodo. I would have added a piece of Frodo learning about his ability to see the other world being more than illusions and dreams, but I think that's best reserved for later. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	16. Ch 16 -  Pull it Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess that magic wasn't going to be going anywhere. Might as well train to use it... Kinda?

After Bilbo was freed from the rubble that filled the bathroom below his now inhabitable bedroom, he was brought to Gandalf's study, followed by a parade of onlookers Durin folk. Clearly he wouldn't be going out today, but that was fine with the Hobbit- he had too many troubles to deal with now that he apparently had magic. The fact that magic even existed was boggling in itself. Smaug brought along a first aid kit and was already tending to the moody Hobbit's scrapes from his fall. They didn't speak, only communicating through gestures and wordless vocalizations like grunts or huffs. The bronze skinned man was retaining his normal human appearance- or perhaps his disguise, seeing how he wasn't at all human. When he was done tending to Bilbo, he went to go stand the corner, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. The silence was deafening but neither made a move to break it. 

Thankfully only a pair of moments had passed when Gandalf finally showed up, showing away the crowd of Durin folk that congregated outside the study. The old man closed the study door with a relieved sigh before going to sit at his big, wooden desk. "Goodness, what an exciting turn of events. A bit of clean up will be in order, but that part of the mansion needed cleaning up anyways..." 

Bilbo watched the old man scribble down something on a stack of sticky notes. _How am I suppose to see these people as anymore? Are they even humanoid? Smaug isn't, I think..._ The Hobbit felt a wave of confusion coming but hammered it away before clearing his throat. "Ah.. Suppose there's some explaining in order, um.. Gandalf."

Gandalf looked at Bilbo with his usual mysterious yet friendly gaze, like he knew something and was secretly amused or delighted by whatever it was that he knew." Explaining? Did Smaug not explain things to you?"

"Ah, well... He said some things but-"

"Did he tell you that we're not from this world and that you're special because you can see the other side?"

"Yes, but-"

Gandalf interrupted him again, smiling," Did he inform you that Frodo was also special and that the reasoning behind what just happened now was due to magic?"

"Yes, he did, but-"

"Then what else is there to explain?" asked the old man, sitting back in his chair, folding his hands over one another while resting his elbows on the arms of the chair.

"...Why do I have magic? What am I... What I suppose to do about all of this?" questioned Bilbo wearily, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

"You have magic because you... Have magic. How you came to possess the ability to wield it is beyond me, but you do and so I suppose we'll have to train you in how to use it. And as for 'all of this,' as you so put it... Just live with it. We will help guide you through the course of this adventure just like you'll help us in return. Maybe when this is all over, you can write a book about it and clean your hands of everything you don't care for. You'd be shunning a part of yourself, but it's your choice."

While Gandalf sounded like his solution was plain and easy, Bilbo felt like it was the most cryptic piece of information he had ever been given. How in the world was he suppose to guide them when he had no idea what the hell was going on? And clean his hands of this- this wasn't something that could just be dismissed! Or could it? 

"Hold on, hold on... If I don't do anything magical related... Will it go away?" asked the Hobbit, gesturing to vaguely point out it was his magic he was asking about. 

Gandalf chuckled, "If it were that easy, Bilbo, then I wouldn't be a wizard. No, your magic stays. It'll go dormant, yes, but it'll always be there."

 _Well, at least it won't be a problem if it goes dormant,_ thought Bilbo with a slow nod. He could work with that." Alright... So when does all of this... Guiding stuff happen, I mean, start? Is there a particular date or..?"

"It can start at any moment- your part, that is. Our part already begun, thanks to Smaug."

"Excuse me, but it's not your part, just my own," grumbled the dragon man, narrowing his eyes at Gandalf. 

"Oh really? Well then, since you did your part by awakening Master Bilbo's magic, you can teach him how to use it."

"What?!" exclaimed both Bilbo and Smaug. They glared at each other and each began to protest but Gandalf gave their protests a dismissive wave. Apparently they hadn't a choice in that matter- Smaug somewhat regretted correcting the wizard and Bilbo was miffed that he had to be trained by the the dragon man who got him into this mess. Well, this part of this mess. 

"Gandalf, why did you come h-" started Bilbo, looking in the old man's direction- but he was gone. "G-gandalf?" 

Smaug sighed, rather annoyed. "Damn wizard."

Bilbo looked at the dragon man, frowning at him," He does this often then?"

"Too bloody often. Come on, let's get started- no worries, I'm just going to have you read books for the beginning of this... Whatever you want to call it," Smaug instructed, gesturing for the Hobbit to follow. Bilbo hobbled after him as the dragon man lead him out of the study. None of the Durin folk were around the door, probably off to that event or maybe chased away by Gandalf. 

Up the stairs they went, the only thing breaking the silence being their footsteps- Smaug's neat and slightly softened clack of his shoes and Bilbo's a shuffling step of slipper clad feet. Down the hall with the picture and the bust they went, the soft darkness of Smaug's wing seemingly enfold in them in a welcoming embrace. To the big doors that opened into the library where the dragon stayed, the fireplace directly across only holding ash covered logs- they were new ones, Bilbo noted as he was directed to the couch which was also Smaug's bed. The dragon man left the Hobbit sitting there whilst he went around the book engorged room to collect material he wished the shorter man to read. Bilbo watched the bronze skinned male go about from bookcase to bookcase, his collection of reading material growing into a sizeable stack. Had the Hobbit not been a fan of literature, he would have found the stack of books to be daunting; they still were only because they were no doubt about magic or maybe the other world. Would there be books about either from this world? 

Smaug set down the tall stack of books on the floor in front of Bilbo, handing the Hobbit the first one on top. "Get reading- don't worry about finishing them all today, you can take as long as you like. And if you have questions, save 'em- I'm going for a walk. You' re to stay here, got it?" 

The Hobbit nodded and the dragon man huffed before departing, the library doors swinging shut heavily behind him. Bilbo sighed and opened the book given to him. _At least I won't have to feel awkward with him being in here, watching me read books._

This all eventually fell into a routine that the two would go through for a few days: Bilbo would be given a stack of books to read through, Smaug would leave until it was meal time or time to sleep. A cot was brought to the library, initially for Bilbo, but the dragon man somehow ended up using it instead, meaning Bilbo hardly left the couch except to go eat his meals or relieve himself in the loo. 

It was very annoying after the third day.

Bilbo dropped the book he had been reading with a bored and rather annoyed sigh. "This is getting me nowhere!" The Hobbit scooted off the couch and shuffled out of the library- no point in being there if he wasn't progressing. Might as well pick a bone with the man- or rather, dragon- who left him there. 

Finding Smaug was surprisingly easy to do this time around. Rather than ask the Company where he was, he asked if one of them could contact him somehow. "That's an easy one- just shoot him one of those gadget messages," supplied Bifur, holding up his cell. 

 

"Ah, you mean text him. Could you give me his number?" asked Bilbo, pulling out his own cell phone. Bifur rattled it off to him and the Hobbit thanked him before sending the dragon a message:

BB: Where are you?   
SF: Who's this?   
BB: I asked first- agh, it's Bilbo.   
SF: Bloody hell who gave you this number?   
BB: Nevermind who gave me it, where are you? Reading is getting me nowhere. 

Bilbo cough imagine the dragon man giving an annoyed sigh and rolled his eyes at his phone. 

SF: You haven't read enough, go back an read.   
BB: Like he'll I will. I should save us both some trouble and just tell Gandalf that this is going to work.   
SF: Hobbit, don't you freaking dare  
BB: He's usually in his study right now, right? 

Bilbo startled a bit when an 'incoming call' message with Smaug's number popped up. He clicked answer and held the phone up to his ear,"Hello-"

"You're going to give me headaches. Where are you?"

"I asked first."

"WHERE ARE YOU?" Smaug's voice boomed at him, causing Bilbo to hold his phone away for a few whilst his ear rung and Bifur gave him a questioning look. Bilbo mouthed 'it's fine' to the bearded man before holding the phone back up to his ear. 

"The den downstairs, by the kitchen-" _Boop, boop, boop._ The Hobbit looked at his phone. "Ah.. He hung up."

Bifur snickered and quickly left the room, leaving Bilbo to face the dragon's wrath on his own. The Hobbit frowned slightly as he thought, _Did I take it too far...?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about the delay on getting this updated. As it is, I might add more to this chapter later today so stay tuned!


	17. Ch. 17 - What Do You Mean?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clearly, Smaug should have tried his best at convincing Gandalf that he wasn't the right teacher for Bilbo. Or maybe Bilbo should have stuck with his books.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of trouble thinking of what to write for this chapter. To the point that I actually forgot that I was writing this fanfiction.  
> I have no idea what I am doing at this point, but hopefully I can get something written down that somewhat resembles something illegible.   
> Hope this was worth the wait, feel free to leave comments.
> 
> Also if any one has fanart to share, please submit it to my tumblr: weeabooguppy.tumblr.com

Bilbo wasn’t sure what was more frightening: having Smaug hang up on him after raising his voice to the point of making his cell phone go all staticky, or being dragged promptly from the kitchen by a fuming dragon-man. Literally, the taller man was puffing smoke as he pulled Bilbo along, their destination unclear until the Hobbit noticed that they were closing in on the garden. Smaug didn’t lighten his grip on the other’s shirt, not even when they crossed the threshold onto the patio and further along a path. Onward they went, deeper and deeper into the garden; the landscape changed slightly, Bilbo taking note on how the path started leading them down a hillside. Patches of wildflowers, surprisingly not at all ruined by the recent rains, seemed to pepper the green surrounding the pathway until it ended at an old white grotto amongst a grove of swaying willows. The Hobbit was finally released from the dragon-man’s clutches, being allowed a few moments to take in the scenic view.

Smaug wandered around the grotto, clearly looking for something. Bilbo watched him as he crouched near a willow and the stream that ran past the grove, picking at the ground before him. When he finally rose and returned to the Hobbit’s side, Bilbo noticed that he was carrying a very plain looking rock. Smaug placed said rock on one of the benches sheltered by the grotto’s roof.

Crossing his arms, the dragon-man gave a nod to the rock, “If you want to get your hands dirty and learn magic by doing it, then move that rock.”

Bilbo blinked in confusion, wondering if Smaug was not actually very knowledgeable about teaching someone, let alone teaching someone how to do magic. Not to mention his first lesson- if that is what this is suppose to be- seemed rather familiar. “You want me… to move a rock. Call me crazy, but isn’t that what Brom had Eragon do in the movie and book of the same name?”

“Did I say give me smack? No? Then shut up and move the rock.”

“Why move rock?” asked Bilbo, raising a brow at Smaug.

The dragon-man groaned as he rolled his eyes skyward, “Because it’s the easiest spell next to lighting a candle, now do it!”

“Alright, fine! Is there some sort of magic word or something to-”

“JUST MOVE THE ROCK.”

Bilbo pointed an angry finger at Smaug, looking quite annoyed, “I WILL THROW THAT ROCK AT YOUR FACE YOU MAKE NO SENSE.”

Smaug growl in return, muttering something that was more than likely an insult under his breath. He raised his hands and made a conducting motion, as if an orchestra were in front of him. Such a thought would have made Bilbo laugh, however, it only made him watch in slight awe as the rock on the bench slowly rose into the air. It hovered for a few moments, spinning slowly in the grip of some unseen force, before Smaug made what looked to be the same gesture but backwards. The rock slowly lowered, once again resting on the bench.

The Hobbit blinked his eyes quite firmly, as if to convince himself that it was not a dream at all. “Just like that?” he asked, looking quite unsure.

“Just like that.”

Bilbo leaned closer to the bench, giving the rock a look over. He even reached over and gave it a timid nudge, checking to see if it was hot for some reason. It was cool to the touch, and very much so real. “What...what, um… What exactly goes through your mind when you do that?”

“I want the rock to move. It moves,” Smaug explained blankly, looking like he was very dead inside.

“S-So it’s just a thing of will power?”

The dragon-man once again rolled his eyes skyward, “Ugh, yes! Now please, for the love of Erodor... move. The goddamn. Rock.”

“Does this imply you have a god or gods in your world?” Bilbo questioned offhandedly, not really interested in what the answer to that question may be.

Apparently Smaug was having none of this question business. The Hobbit suddenly found himself hoisted almost off the ground by the front of his shirt, a very grumpy dragon-esque face rather close to his own. “If you do not move that damn rock, I will move it into your face until you no longer have one,” seethed Smaug, black smoke bellowing out of his mouth as he spoke. 

Just as quickly as he was grabbed, Bilbo was released, the action leaving him to stumble back a step. “O-okay, okay, I’ll move the rock…” he almost squeaked, thankfully having a good hold on his voice to be caught doing so. Hesitantly, the Hobbit steadied himself, assuming his conducter-esque posture as he gazed down upon the unmoving rock before him. _It can’t be that hard… I bet a child could do this without even trying,_ he reasoned with himself, taking a deep breath. Slowly, he moved his arms the same way as Smaug had, his attention solely on the rock on the bench, willing it to move.

A sickening woosh coursed through the Hobbit’s body, like he was on a roller coaster set to free fall, and the world suddenly warped around him. He clapped his hands to his head, a loud ringing noise accompanying a sudden pounding in his temples. Bilbo was fairly sure he was going to be sick, if not from the strange feeling in his body then definitely from the onslaught his brain was dealing with. What felt like an eternity seemed to pass, but was actually just a minute or two, before the pounding eased away to a distant throb; his stomach settled a bit, just leaving him a little queasy. It was only then did Bilbo look up to see if he was successful in moving that damn rock. His sight was first welcomed by a very confused and tense looking Smaug.

“….the fuck did you just do?” demanded the dragon-man, his voice so low that Bilbo would have described it as a loud whisper.

“What...what do you mean?”

The dragon-man didn’t answer him, only gave their surroundings a look of bewilderment. Bilbo, rather confused, looked around as well. The willows were the only things that looked familiar- everything else was very, very different. Instead of a hillside, Bilbo saw the beginnings of mountain cliffs, the stony outcroppings rising up from the ground. The steam was still there, but wider and more fierce in its flow; the grotto was nowhere to be found, not even the benches were there. They were definitely not in the garden of the Lonely Manor.

“W-where, where are we?” Bilbo asked, the sensation of uncertainty and also fear rising in him slowly.

“I….I have no idea.”

“What do you mean you have no idea?!” demanded the Hobbit, rounding back to look at Smaug, who looked still bewildered yet also confused. “You’re the magic expert! I thought you said that was suppose to move a rock, not move us to god knows where!”

“Hey, I didn’t lie, if that’s what you’re hinting at! That was suppose to move the rock, in fact, I’m pretty sure it did. But this, this… This is something else. This is why I didn’t want to teach you, because I don’t teach.” 

_Ah, so my assumption was correct,_ thought Bilbo, setting into the motion of pacing. _Regardless, we now have a problem: we’re in the middle of nowhere, all thanks to some magic mumbo jumbo. Hopefully, we’re not too far out of civilization that we don’t have service- maybe we’re just at a park or something._ As he thought, the Hobbit reached into his pocket, going after his cell.

However, upon reaching into said pocket, he only found a golden ring. And he also noticed that his clothes all together were very different and he was barefoot. “Oh, that’s just great- middle of nowhere AND my wardrobe has been hoodwinked.”

“What do you mean by- oh. Oh no.”

Bilbo looked up in confusion at Smaug, raising a brow at him. What was up now?

“I think I know where we are.”  
“Oh? Where? A theatre festival?”

“No…. We’re in Erobor… Just not the one we were in moments ago,” the dragon-man said slowly, swallowing awkwardly.

“...What? What do you mean?” _We seem to be saying that a lot._

“Well, for one thing,” Smaug started, looking very conflicted and what seemed to also be embarrassed, “your clothing is different. Mine is too. And for another… you’re shorter and look like an actual Hobbit, clearly noted by the barefeet.”

“I can’t possibly be shorter, it’s probably just a change in terrain-” Before Bilbo could finish his sentence, Smaug came over to him and stood directly in front of him, both of them on equal level ground. Smaug was in his very human-esque form, one that Bilbo knew to be six foot three, one that he knew would leave him staring at his collarbone. Bilbo pressed his lips tightly together, his gaze meeting Smaug smack dab in the middle of his chest, probably half a head above the dragon-man’s naval.

“...Well, I’ll be.”


	18. Ch 18 - Alley-oop!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Well, this just won't do. But we’ve little choice_ , the dragon man thought as he gave their surroundings a look over. “We’ll have to make camp somewhere unless there's a village over one of these rises.”  
> “Oh, surely there is. I've been thinking-”  
> “Thinking?” Smaug mused, turning towards Bilbo with a bemused smirk. “When don't you?”

Smaug looked to the sky, gauging how much time they had before sunset. Bilbo was pacing nearby, making little ‘hmm’s’ and muttering his thoughts under his breath now and then. Smaug noticed that the more Hobbit-like man would often stop to put his hands on his hips, gesture with one hand, scratch his head, or a combination of the three. It was slightly annoying but easy to block out. Holding his hand up towards the sky, Smaug made note that they still had roughly five hours till the foothills around them would be shrouded in darkness. 

_Well, this just won't do. But we’ve little choice_ , the dragon man thought as he gave their surroundings a look over. “We’ll have to make camp somewhere unless there's a village over one of these rises.”

“Oh, surely there is. I've been thinking-”

“Thinking?” Smaug mused, turning towards Bilbo with a bemused smirk. “When don't you?”

The Hobbit shook a finger at him and looked like he had a fair share of words for the dragon man, but continued with sharing his thoughts, “We’re a geographically similar location to that of the Manor. Which means it's equivalent must be nearby. Now, if we just retrace our steps, perhaps we will find it and maybe whoever resides in it can, well, help us.”

“As great of an idea as that is, we also run into the issue of hostiles possibly being in whatever equivalent to the Manor there is. Which is a large, expansive dwarven city that I'm supposed to be calling home right now.” Despite sounding rather pessimistic about Bilbo's plan, Smaug found himself looking towards the direction of where they had originally come from. “I suppose if worse comes to worse, I can always barbecue the place.”

“Oh, I'd rather you don't. Barbecue the place that is,” said Bilbo, wringing his hands a little worriedly. 

Smaug looked at him, raising a brow, “Even if it would save your life?”

The Hobbit didn't say anything, just looked pointedly in the same direction Smaug just had. He wiped his hands on his vest before starting to trudge up the small slope before them. Smaug followed after, watching the Hobbit with both interest and… Concern. The grass, though a fresh spring green, crunched under their feet, more so under Smaug’s than Bilbo’s. The wind was gentle, which was nice but also left the dragon man on high alert for any sound that would have otherwise been disguised from the typical howling he expected from the foothills. He would have been overly concerned if there had been the scraping of boots or hooves against rocks, as any wild man or animal would have been difficult for them to skirt away from in the somewhat foreign world despite the fact that either could also be a means for help. A wild man could easily be a trader who was on his way to or from a city; any animal could either be food or a stead for quicker passage depending on its size and demeanour. But no, the foothills were quiet, save for the crunching, crisp green grass and the gentle hum of the breeze. 

The pair made their way to the top of the rise that had been the porch area of the Manor not a few moments ago. Much to their disappointment, neither the equivalent or even any structure at all was waiting for either of them. Just more grass and a bit of rock. “I don’t understand- by all means, this should have been the Manor!” exclaimed Bilbo, stamping forward as he gazed about in disbelief. 

“It is as I had feared, but denied to indulge in speaking about,” admitted Smaug with a tired sigh. The Hobbit spun about and fixed him with a pointed look that was on the verge of becoming a glare. “The Manor itself is where we came from, true, but as I said, Erebor is a large dwarven city. One that is… in the side of a mountain. The Lonely Mountain, to be precise. By all means, we could be standing above one of the tunnels to Erebor, but we could also be miles away from the city itself.”

“Well, how in the bloody hell are we supposed to figure out where we are? Just magic ourselves a hundred feet in the air and hope we can point ourselves in the right direction? Who knows, maybe by the time we get back down, we’ll be safely on the roof of the Manor, oh what cursed joy!” groused the increasingly agitated Hobbit. He fumed as he stamped about in a huff, refusing to even breathe in Smaug’s direction. 

Not that the dragon would mind. He was getting a bearing on where they were, trying to figure things out in the old map he had of the world he knew. Of how he had seen it when he flew down from the North, of where he had taken rest here and there so as to keep his mighty form fresh for his conquest of the dwarven city. _What I would give to go back and do it all again. But maybe I could have made the dwarves my servants, rather than chase them all out completely_ , the dragon man lamented with a mental sigh. He had been so lonely when he had chased the Durin folk away. Even his hoard had left him cold despite how hot he kept those shimmering, beautiful hills of gold and jewels.

“Wait a minute… a hundred feet into the air- Baggins, I should get you in a tizzy more often,” Smaug rumbled with a chuckle of revelation and amusement.

“What are you going on about?” demanded the Hobbit, turning towards the dragon man. He gave a yelp as he was suddenly plucked off the ground by terrifyingly large talons, the green grass quickly becoming a shrinking blue beneath him as the wind roared in his ears- or was that his blood? He wasn’t one for thinking too much about it at the moment, only thinking of not looking down. “Smaug! Smaug, let me do-”

His protest died in the wind as everything leveled out, vast swathes of blue and soft, puffy clouds all around him. The view was breathtaking. Or maybe that was just his lungs trying to catch up with the change of elevation and altitude. Amongst the clouds was the hulking red form that made up Smaug- Bilbo knew it was him, as he remembered those fire bright scales from the other day in his bedroom. The sun made those very scales seem like petals of fire and sunlight, each one its own work of beauty. The massive wings that battled the air to keep them aloft thundered, but also didn’t send stinging winds into Bilbo’s face. That was a very welcomed thing in itself. 

“What can you see?” asked a thundering, magnificent voice, far louder than the one from afore. 

“What? What do you mean?” Bilbo had to yell over the air current that still whistled by.

“Below, Hobbit. What do you see?”

“I’d much rather not look down, thank you very much!”

Smaug’s grumbles were like crashing waves in his mighty throat as he alighted so he could look around, his body curling half on itself, like a kitten being held by the scruff. Bilbo clung to the talons around his body, making noises of unease from the dragon’s movements. The firedrake ignored him as he examined the world below them, taking in the sights that greeted him. Satisfied, he carefully descended back towards the ground below them. The landing was an almost comical event, as the dragon had to hop about on three legs for a few steps before he could balance correctly and finally set Bilbo down. The Hobbit slumped to the grassy ground, his head spinning as his body made the slow, delicate adjustment to being back on solid ground and not in the air. “Well, the good news is, we’re in a territory I know rather well. The bad news is, we’re over a day’s worth of flight from Erebor,” explained the drake with little to no prompting. He apparently made the decision to stay in his dragon form, for whatever reason he felt necessary.

“How...How are-” Bilbo struggled to say, but talking made his head spin and stomach tried to do a flip that he had to close his eyes and try super hard to will down.

“How are we so far? Your guess is mine, though I would venture a guess that whatever magic you did not only brought us into my world but also threw us off course from where we would have originally entered. I don’t blame you, of course: magic can be a finicky, fickle beast to use if you’re so new to it. I should have had Gandalf shield you, but I admit, I wasn’t thinking at the time,” the dragon disclosed with a sigh that left the air slightly warmer. 

Bilbo didn’t respond for a handful of moments, allowing his body and mind to adjust as it needed to. He gave a pathetic groan as he managed to straighten up and look at the dragon. He gave an open-armed gesture towards him, “What would you have us do then? Fly there? Walk?”

“Do you think you could handle either?”

“I don’t think I could handle a brandy, let alone another step for the next hour or so,” the Hobbit admitted with a defeated shrug of his shoulders. 

“Then we’ll make camp. Set out tomorrow. I doubt anything would try to harry us for a day or more, now that I have made it clear I was in the area. Just in case there is someone or something stupid that would even try, I will remain in this form. You should be safe under my wings.” Carefully, so as not to make the ground rock under Bilbo and unease his equilibrium once again, Smaug padded over to the Hobbit and lowered his towering form to the ground beside him. His wings came down to fold in a way that left just enough space between the appendage and Smaug’s side that Bilbo could crawl in and use it for shelter. 

“The last thing I expected today was to take shelter under a dragon,” the Hobbit said offhandedly as he crawled gingerly into the open space.

“The last thing I expected was to be your tent; I suppose I can relate.” The ground ended up quivering from the dragon’s chuckle, and Bilbo almost didn’t mind it. However, it did smell a lot like dragon flesh, which was oddly metallic and smokey. Not too bad, but not the best for a soured stomach. Somehow, he would just have to make due.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is honestly a test run to see if anyone is still interested in this. I know a few have expressed that they were, but I partially end up feeling that I am wasting not only my own time, but my viewers' time as well when writing this story. Where should I take this story? Should I even continue?
> 
> If you have any suggestions, please leave them below.
> 
> Also, for clarification, with this AU, the Five Armies will not occur. Unless many viewers suggest that it does and that Smaug ends up in one of the armies. Again, leave suggestions below. 
> 
> Comments and kudos welcomed <3


	19. Ch 19 - Mellon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frodo finds himself away from his friends, which he has conflicting thoughts about.

Hotels that offered free breakfast were a blessing. Not only did you not have to worry about cooking or trying to figure out where the nearest breakfast restaurant was, but you also didn't have to worry about cleaning your dishes afterwards. However, hotels that offered breakfast were also a curse. A reality one only faced when they were not a morning person. Which, despite coming from a similar lifestyle and home environment, Merry and Sam were not really into being ‘morning people’ without proper goading in the form of coffee and lots of it. But, because time was of the essence, and Frodo and Pippin were frankly starving, they were willing to resort to other measures, even ones that could have unbecoming consequences. 

“Alright, one… Two…” Pippin softly counted, holding the cup of ice aloft above his best friend's face. Across the room, perched in a similar fashion with his own cup of ice, waited Frodo with a cheek twinging grin. You know, the kind of grins that hurt from how much your cheek muscles are pulled taut and leave your face sore for a while. Frodo gave an eager nod as he glanced down at the unsuspecting Samwise, and tried not to let out the faintest bit of laughter 

“Three!” The pair tipped their cups over, ice cascading onto Merry and Sam’s faces. The sleeping boys let out equally alarmed yelps, scrambling away from the ice in blurry-eyed stupor. Sam's blanket ended up being flung off the bed, but left the ice Frodo dumped on him scattered about the bed and against his sleep clothes. He was quick to jump off the mattress before gravity would bring the frozen water to roll more towards him. Merry was in a bigger kerfuffle, having managed to tangle himself in his blanket and fall partially off the bed. Pippin had sprung after him, laughing like a mad man while he clutched the hem of Merry’s shirt, keeping the other from falling more off the bed as he struggled to free his upper half from the blanket and the few ice cubes that came with it. Poor Pippin cringed as his own weapon left part of his belly feeling dreadfully cold. 

Frodo was beside himself with tear-jerking laughter, doubled over on the edge of his perch as Sam gave him the most bewildered look the darker haired lad had ever seen. 

“The hell was that for?!” demanded the fuming Samwise. 

“Br-breakfast,” Frodo managed to hiss out between his painful giggling. 

“Breakfast? You cheeky- was that your idea?” Sam had turned to Pippin, who was have much difficulty keeping poor Merry from slipping and whilst trying to not straight out laugh himself hoarse. Despite this, Sam look like he was near about to strangle the guilty lad. 

“Was- it was mine, Sam. It was mine,” Frodo admitted, still doubled over as his shoulders shook from the snickers he couldn't help but wheeze out between gasping breaths. Though guilty as charged, he did not regret a thing. “S-sorry, we didn't want to miss breakfast and we didn't want to leave you two left out.”

Sam swore as he turned back around and pulled Frodo from his perch, tossing him onto the dampening bedsheets. The dark-haired lad gave a wild yelp and was quick to scramble away; Sam, shaking his head as he shuffled about in search of a change of clothes, had a satisfied smirk on his face, deeming that he had avenged himself. 

*****

After the whole debacle of icy bedsheets and a somewhat upset Merry having to be coaxed into a better mood over breakfast, the group decided to plan out the rest of their morning. Of course, packing was on the top of everyone's list, as they had only a pair of hours before the hotel would need them to either relinquish their room or pay for another night. Wanting to be out on the road instead of staying for another night, the boys consented to the packing and moved on to their other activities. 

“I want to go looking at farmers market down the way,” said Pippin as he tossed his pajamas towards his knapsack. “You never know if you'll find the next best crispy bacon or a good bushel of mushrooms for a tasty addition to supper.”

“Aye, nor do you know if you'll find a pint of delicious home brew,” added Merry. “I'll tag with you, Pip, and we can split the expenses.” The two clasped hands with mischievous grins, looking like a pair of good for nothing imps. 

“I was thinking of going to the bookshop a few blocks over-” started Sam, but the aforementioned imps burst into a fit of giggles. Sam, his cheeks reddening, scowled at them, “What's wrong with wanting to go to a bookstore?” 

“You just want to see if they have one or any of Frodo’s books,” said Merry accusingly. Pippin, still giggling, nodded in agreement. 

“Not true--I wanted to find an atlas for my gran.”

“Nerd~!” chorused the impish duo. Sam, getting frustrated with them, threw a shoe- which just so happened to belong to Meriadoc- in their direction. It hit Merry but the two imps had fallen into another bouts of giggles and didn't seem to care. There were numerous occasions where Sam considered the duo to be nothing but a pair of cackling hyenas, like Ed and Bonzai from the Lion King. It was sometimes an annoying thing to deal with. 

The ginger looked towards his quiet companion whom had been neatly packing away his stuff while the others were goofing around. “Any plans for you, Mr. Frodo?” 

Frodo looked up from what he was doing, before looking back down as he replied, “Hm? Oh, not really. Might hang around the lobby or go to the coffee shop. I had some ideas I need to ponder, or maybe share with Uncle. If I can't use them, he might.”

Sam gave a soft frown as Frodo looked away. He felt a flutter go down his arm, his hand itching to reach out and give his friend a hearty pat on the back or to ruffle his hair. Something just screamed at him that Frodo was hiding something emotionally-- was he doubting his writing abilities? Secretly bored with the trip? Homesick? Though Sam itched to comfort his dear friend, he refrained and gave a soft grunt of acknowledgement.

“Well, while you two are nerds, we’re going to be off!” said Pip cheerfully. He and Merry hefted their duffel bags onto their shoulders or over their heads as they paraded out of the room, climbing over one of the beds to get past Sam. 

“Wait! You still have your room keys! And the car is locked!” exclaimed the ginger, scrambling after them, his own duffel smacking him in the face as he went. Sam almost tripped over the lip of the doorframe, poor lad being in such a hurry. 

Frodo gave a chuckle as he heard them whooping and hollering-- and swearing, on the part of Sam-- as they were no doubt racing down the hall towards the elevators. And then it sunk in. He was alone for once. He didn't feel bothered by this for a few moments, in fact he just continued on with his packing, stuffing his toiletries and shirts into the main compartment of his duffel. It wasn't until he placed in the final item and zipped the duffel close that he felt the increasingly familiar itch. It started in the back of his mind, before swirling forward til it was the only thing he could think of, like an addict thinking of his addiction. 

_I really shouldn't. I should just forget about it_ , Frodo thought as he worried at the strap of his bag. The itch disagreed, egging him on to do it. To look into that other world, even if just for a moment. But his gut told him no, and Frodo was heavily agreeing with his gut. 

He decided to distract his mind by straightening up the room. And then by unpacking his bag and repacking it, telling himself that he was just making sure he had everything with him, that surely he forgot something. But he didn't. He had everything neatly packed, and it slightly sickened him. Worrying his lip, Frodo shouldered the strap to his bag and hurried on out of the room. It felt like he was cutting off a limb as he closed the door behind him, but maybe checking out will ease his worries-- maybe it’ll just be enough of a distraction that he won't even have to consider any of his worries. 

*****

“Merry, what time is it?” inquired Sam as he watched the lobby entrance. The sun was still out, though from how it danced off the nearby buildings at an angle told him evening was drawing closer. The traffic also indicated that some sort of rush was going on, though Sam couldn't tell which. 

Meriadoc looked at his wristwatch with a frown, giving it a small shake to see if it was working before regarding the time it said. “A little after three, why?” 

“Because Frodo isn't back yet, and it’s been almost 5 hours,” Sam said informatively. He was pretty sure his gut was starting to drop. 

“Relax,” sighed Pippin, kicking back to lounge against the large arm chair he opted to perch upon, “he probably found himself a nice corner in a coffee shop and is working on his book--or maybe he called his uncle and neither have felt the need to hang up before the other does. He’ll be fine.”

“His phone was on the hallway floor, Pip. How could he call his uncle without his phone?” asked Sam, looking over to his friend with a concerned look. 

“Um… Pa-Payphone?” the little imp offered, looking rather unsure. 

“We know you’re worried, Sam, but what Pip is trying to get at is that Frodo is a grown up lad and knows how to reach us--or even the police-- if he got into some trouble. You just have to keep your cool and wait for him. Who knows? Just might be waltzing through that door any moment now.” Merry gestured to the lobby door and the three of them looked towards it, as if to see if he was right and that their friend would come through those very doors. 

Their nerves steadily began to disagree with them when Frodo had yet to appear within the next half hour. “We should go look for him,” Sam reasoned, rising from his seat. 

“Hate to agree… But agreed,” said Merry with a nod. Pippin gave a nervous smile in agreement.” Where do we start?”

“The car?” 

“Sounds good,” voiced Pippin as they all got up together and started heading towards the exit, weaving around incoming and outgoing patrons.

The pavement outside rang with their quick footsteps as they hurried off towards the parking garage, trying not to get ran over as they went. A few people gave them weird looks, but didn't get in their way. Up to the third level they went, where Sam had opted to leave his precious Pontiac. The three gents gathered around the car, gasping for breath as they looked around and in the car. Frodo was nowhere to be seen, but his luggage was lodged in the floorboards of the backseat. 

“He was here, at least…” said Merry after he caught his breath. He looked around once more before regarding their friend’s bag, “Maybe he left a note?” 

“Probably,” agreed Pippin. 

Sam opened the back door and leaned in, looking for any note of some kind that may give them a clue to Frodo’s whereabouts. Seeing nothing laying about, he decided to see if one was in the duffel. The zipper caught a bit, requiring Sam to tug quite a bit; each tug felt like a tug on his heart, as if the worst would be discovered when he finally opened the bag. At first, there was nothing to be seen amongst Frodo’s belongings. But after Sam moved the bag a bit so as to better see the inside contents, he noticed a paper pamphlet just tucked slightly out of the way. He carefully pulled the pamphlet out so as to not rip it. 

“I don't remember Frodo grabbing a pamphlet from anywhere-- where’s it from?” asked Pippin when Sam showed it to him and Merry. 

“Looks like… The bookstore down the way. Let’s go-” 

“Hold on, look there,” interjected Merry, stopping Sam before he could rush off. He pointed to some handwriting at the bottom, which had been covered by Sam’s hand. “What’s that say?” 

“Hard to say… It’s in cursive. I didn't know Frodo wrote in cursive,” remarked Sam as he peered at the scrawled letters. They appeared to be written with some silvery ink, one that kept shifting in the light. Holding the pamphlet as still as possible, Sam squinted at the handwriting. “It says…’mellon’?”

Pippin and Merry traded looks with each other before laughing out loud. Sam frowned at them, crossing his arms in annoyance.

“That is… The most ridiculous message ever,” rasped Merry after a moment. 

Sam rolled his eyes, “At least he left something- it's a clue for us. He was considerate, leaving us, his friends-” 

A loud clap of thunder rang throughout the garage, followed by a bright flash of light. People continued to mill about, as if nothing happened… where the three gents had been lay a smoldering scrap of the pamphlet and the Pontiac. Moments later, those vanished as well, and still no one seemed to noticed either disappearing; it was like they never existed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per usual, I hope you have enjoyed what I have written thus far. This chapter was going to be longer but then I got stuck with connecting some things. So I broke it down instead.
> 
> Thank you the comments thus far. They help keep this going, even the simple ones. 
> 
> If you would like to ask questions or maybe send in art or headcannons about the story, you can send them to my tumblr: weeabooguppy.tumblr.com  
> Or you can leave them in the comments. 
> 
> Again, thank you for reading this.


	20. Ch. 20 - Most Unbecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Come on, Mr. Frodo, we mustn't lose too much ground with the rest of the Fellowship,” said Sam as he gave Frodo a gentle yet rousing shake. 
> 
> Frodo’s brows furrowed, “I… Didn't tell…”
> 
> Sam gave him a curious look, “Didn't tell what?” 
> 
> “...The Fellowship. I didn't say anything about it yesterday.”
> 
> “Not much to say about a ragtag group of strangers. I honestly wouldn't go with them save for Mr. Strider and Gandalf,” Sam admitted with a shrug. “But even then, they’re not much better, no offense to the wizard.”
> 
> “...What?”

“Frodo? Frodo?!” called out Sam, tramping through the undergrowth of a vast forest. A couple of squirrels chittered at him from above, as if they were either insulted or curious of his passing. Metal pots clanged together occasionally, each fitfully tied to the back of his large travel rucksack. The mossy forest floor was comforting against his bare feet, almost like walking on the rugs back home. Still, Sam searched wildly for that familiar set of dark curls and slender frame of his companion. “Frodo, I swear if you're using your elven cloak again, I will be so mad!” 

Up ahead, tucked away from view, Frodo stood pressed to a large, old oak tree. His wide eyes dashed too and fro, not making much sense of his surroundings. _Why are we still here? Everything should have gone back to normal by now._

The last few days made no sense to him. At first when the others had crossed to this side with him, they were equally alarmed with what was going on-- well, Sam and Merry were, Pippin was fascinated by everything. It was hard to explain to them all that this had been happening to Frodo for days, as each of them swore up, down, and sideways that they would have noticed if their friend had been vanishing to some other world. 

“That’s the thing though, each time I would cross over, you guys were still with me. I'm pretty sure I even asked what was going on and one of you said we were going to meet the elves in Rivendell-- which, by the way, was really weird to witness because Legolas is an elf,” Frodo explained, looking a bit beside himself. 

“He’s tall and handsome enough for it- wait, wait, wait. What are we then?” demanded Merry, gesturing to all of them. “And where in the hell are my shoes?” 

“From what I gathered, we’re Hobbits-- a race of short humanoids that others confuse for children at times. The key differences is that we go barefoot with no problem in regards to whatever the terrain is and we have pointed ears.” Frodo tucked his hair behind his ear, his dark locks framing the pointed cartilage with ease. The rest of the group reached up to touch their own ears, which they were fascinated by for a brief moment. 

“Well… We’re here now… So what do we do?” asked Pip. 

“I… I don't know. After so many trips to this place, I'm still in the dark.”

“Well, we should set up camp or something. Maybe all of this will… Not be like this in the morning, yeah?” suggested Sam, reaching out to give Frodo a comforting grasp of his shoulder. He looked to each of them in turn, an encouraging smile on his face despite being unnerved by the situation they were all in. “And if it's not, then the best idea is to stick together until we get some help, or at the very least some answers.”

And it seemed, at the time, that everything was going to work out just like that. They had all been on the same page, all knew that something wasn't right about what was going on. But then the next morning… 

“Come on, Mr. Frodo, we mustn't lose too much ground with the rest of the Fellowship,” said Sam as he gave Frodo a gentle yet rousing shake. 

Frodo’s brows furrowed, “I… Didn't tell…”

Sam gave him a curious look, “Didn't tell what?” 

“...The Fellowship. I didn't say anything about it yesterday.”

“Not much to say about a ragtag group of strangers. I honestly wouldn't go with them save for Mr. Strider and Gandalf,” Sam admitted with a shrug. “But even then, they’re not much better, no offense to the wizard.”

“...What?” _How does he know Gandalf is a wizard? How does he know the Fellowship is a thing- I didn't tell them anything about it!_

Sam’s expression became worried as he watched Frodo process everything. “... Is everything alright, Mr. Frodo?” 

Frodo wanted to say no, to tell him everything wasn't alright, but he just shrugged it off. “Just tired. Just need some time to wake up… At times, this all still doesn't seem real..”

They didn't talk much after that. Just the passing word here and there as their apparent party continued on their adventure. Frodo kept giving his friends a strange look when they weren't looking, but he later became more trouble by something else. Gandalf seemed to be equally displaced as he felt, always flicking in and out without the others noticing. It was much apparent after the third day of Frodo knowing that somehow his friends were in this strange world with him, even if they no longer acted like it. Frodo was on his way over to speak with Gandalf, weaving between the trees to catch up with him, when the old man vanished quite literally before his eyes. Panicked, Frodo looked everywhere nearby for him, believing he had fallen or there was some weird magic afoot-- he had seen Gandalf do a spell or two, so he knew magic was a thing here-- but came to no conclusions as to what happened to him. At that point, Sam had caught up with him and inquired about what he was looking for. 

“Gandalf. He's gone.”

“He’s always gone from time to time. Probably used a spell to get him to another place. Maybe he’s scouting ahead. Didn't Bilbo say that he had done that when they went on their adventure?” questioned Sam, giving him a puzzled look. 

Frodo felt a chill go through him. That… Wasn't something he knew. That wasn't something Sam would know. He found himself taking a few steps back… and then he bolted away. 

“Frodo-- Frodo, where are going?” demanded Sam, giving chase to keep up with him. 

And that's where he was now, standing by the large oak after having had run away from his friend. _Is he even the same Sam? Are any of them the same? Am I stuck here..?_

Frodo watched as Sam went passed him, completely missing him due to a ideally placed thicket that shielded him from the view of others, but not them from him. _I have to find Gandalf…or just suck it up and face the facts that I'm stuck here…_

Giving it another minute or two, enough to tell if Sam was still nearby, Frodo picked his way past the thicket and hurried off in a different direction from his friend. He could hear him calling in the distance, but ignored him as he weaved past the trees and towards a rise in the terrain. Just as he was about to reach the top, the stranger by the name of Boromir suddenly came into view, carrying firewood. They both stopped in their tracks when they spotted each other. 

“.. Frodo. Straying from your friends, I see.”

Frodo just stared at him, keeping quiet. Boromir wasn't the worst, but always set him on edge. From what he gathered, the man wanted to be in Frodo’s position, to carry the strange artifact that currently hung from a chain necklace Frodo wore. He still wasn't sure what the whole story was with the damn thing, only that it was his duty to carry it throughout this mess. As if this world couldn't be weirder-- stupid ring is making things strained with these people. 

Boromir set the firewood down and put his hands on his hips, obviously looking at the ring that hung from the necklace. Frodo knew that was always what the man looked at when they talked or caught each others gaze. “What I'd do to trade paths with you… Quite the burden to bare.”

“Its mine alone to bare,” Frodo said cooly. 

“Is it? Thought this entire mission was to take care of this together,” Boromir said, taking a few steps towards Frodo-- but he only took the same amount of steps back, which gave the man a pause in his step. “Why do you shy away?” 

“You want it.”

“Of course I do. To help share this burden.” Again, they take steps towards yet away from each other. Boromir’s expression hid none of his irritation towards Frodo’s retreat. “Should just give it to me. Let me carry it.”

“No--”

\---

“--way. There's just no way. You're telling me that you’ve been alive for centuries?” questioned Bilbo as he and Smaug continued through the mountains. A slight drizzle had settled into the area, making it an unwise setting for Smaug to do any flying with Bilbo. What would seem a gentle downpour at a walking pace would only feel like a thousand stinging needles if they flew. So, being a form of shelter once again, Smaug and Bilbo walked side by side with the dragon extending a wing out to shield the hobbit from the rain. 

“We dragons could live for thousands of years if we’re not taken by ailment or killed by something. Compared to other drakes, I am considerably young. Most my age would entirely too reckless, but I used my wit and my ability to take a human form to my advantage, living amongst a few cultures when I needed information,” explained Smaug, sounding a bit smug to talk about himself. 

“Any places I would know? At least, their equivalent?” 

“Probably not. I stayed in the North for most of my life. I only came southward due to being harried out of my former territory. Rumors of the city of Erebor gave me hope to an easy resettlement… I suppose I may have let it guide me into something I should have paid more thought towards… “

Bilbo looked up at the firedrake, though he couldn't quite see his face from his position on the ground. “Regrets, friend?” 

A thunderous whoosh, which was the dragon letting out a sigh, gave the hobbit a bit of a start, but he held fast. “I have doubts. Not many regrets, but a few doubts. I would have liked to go about things differently, I suppose, but only to approach my choices with a more… diplomatic way of seeing things. Spending time with the Durin folk may have changed my opinion on taking over their vast city… If only for the consideration of needing company in those vast halls.”

“Were you lonely?” asked Bilbo quietly, though he knew the drake could still hear him. 

“...I don't remember,” replied Smaug. Something in his voice bade that Bilbo drop the subject, that it was something that wasn't met with the desire to be spoken about any longer, at least for the time being. They continued on in silence for a few measures, the rain making a soft pattering sound against the membrane of Smaug’s wing and his scales. It gave the setting a slight feel of melancholic peace and quiet. A feeling that set Bilbo’s nerves a bit off. 

_A little rain never hurt_ , the hobbit thought, deciding to go for a bit of a jog out into the rain and from under the cover of Smaug’s wing. The dragon watched him as he went, letting his wing rest back against his side again since there was not much point in it being held aloft now. Bilbo kept up his jog for a good half mile, Smaug easily keeping pace with him. Towards the end, Bilbo had to give a bit of a skipping motion as he came to a stop on the slope of the foothills, the wet grass trying to send him tumbling. Panting a bit, he looked back at the towering dragon, squinting against the rain. 

As Smaug was coming to his own hault, something caught his gaze. Just a flicker of movement, but it still gave him pause. The pocket to Bilbo’s vest visibly flattened, as if there had been something there that now no longer was. Curious. 

“If it weren't for the weather,” Bilbo said, drawing the dragon’s attention from his pocket, “I bet I could have gone a mile. But slippery grass is too much for me, even with these changes.”

“Speaking of changes…” started the dragon, but his attention was quickly drawn to a sudden clatter of rocks. He scanned the area of the rocks, not spotting anything immediately-- still, something was not right. “Something is out there…”

Bilbo turned to follow his gaze just before the dragon lifted him off the ground by grasping the back of his vest with his teeth. The fabric gave sounds of faint ripping, but the hobbit’s surprised squeak covered it. Smaug hissed, ushering Bilbo to be silent as the drake’s body tensed, ready to face whatever was nearby. 

Moments passed. No more rocks clattered. Just the hushed wash of rain against the grass and Smaug’s scales. 

“Perhaps it was just a lizard-” started Bilbo, but Smaug gave his head the slightest of shakes. 

“No. The stone giants grow restless of my presence. We will be safe for now, but come nightfall, they will come for us if we're out in the open.”

“I, I'm sorry.. Stone giants?” Bilbo looked over his shoulder towards Smaug, though really only saw his muzzle, meaning the drake couldn't see him pale a bit. “Are they actually giants, like towering creatures the size of buildings or just really tall men and women?” 

“A single mountain peak alone could house three stone giants. They are perhaps twice my size if they are young, triple or more if they’re grown. I'd rather not find out, so we best get a move on.”

“But we can't really go fast in this weather-” 

“We can if you hide under my wing and I run,” said Smaug with, to Bilbo, what felt like a smirk or grin. The dragon craned his neck around, facing one of his wings like a swan about to preen, and raised the appendage to allow Bilbo access. “Just tuck yourself in there and hold on. It might get a little cramped, but I won't squash you.”

As the hobbit dislodged himself from Smaug’s teeth and clambered into what seemed a good spot, he kept giving the dragon worried glances. “You’ve done this before, right? Carry someone like this?” 

“Yes.”

“So I definitely won't be.. Squashed, as you so put it?” 

The dragon chuckled, the vibration traveling through his gigantic form, even into his wings, which was unnerving for the hobbit. “Not unless I want to squash you. Which, fortunately, I do not.”

“Oh...great.” _This is going to be bloody uncomfortable._ As soon as Bilbo was settled, he gave a thumbs up towards Smaug, who thankfully could still see him tucked in the fold of his wing. 

“Good, now remember to try and hold on. If you feel like you're going to slip, hit the fold three times. And you have to really hit it, else I'll think it's the wind or a bird.” Bilbo gave a nod. “Good. Let's get going then.”

Looking back towards the direction they were heading, Smaug carefully lowered his wing back down a bit. He could tell that Bilbo was tucked into a sizeable gap; when there wasn't an immediate reaction or hitting, he took a good guess the hobbit was still okay. _Good thing he didn't ask if I've carried someone his size before…_ he thought before giving a few testing steps forward, testing the hobbit’s grip more than anything. With still no further reaction, his began to set a smooth, easy stride forward. After a few, he broke out into a sprint, then a run. The earth trembled as he raced through the mountains and foothills, whooshing past the faces in the cliffs that he knew were watching. Still, Bilbo didn't make any sign of slipping, leading the dragon to assume it was alright to keep going. 

By the time Smaug came to a stop, it was nearly sunset, leaving them a few hours left to set up camp. The rain had subsided, the clouds finally drifting away to let the setting sun peak over a few peaks. _That wasn't too bad. I just hope I dry out well enough._

“Bilbo, we’re stopping for the night. Erebor is only but a few miles away, but I'd rather we not approach in the nearing dark,” he rumbled, lifting his wing a bit so the hobbit could crawl free. There wasn't any movement, raising some suspicion in the dragon. “Bilbo? Did you fall asleep?” 

He craned his head around, carefully unfurling his wing to better see his traveling companion. As his wing extended, he had to quickly dart his head forward to catch the hobbit, whom almost fell from his wing. Smaug was a bit startled, and almost asked if the hobbit had motion sickness again…

But Bilbo wasn't moving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was rather fun writing this chapter. I honestly wanted to keep going, but there's too much drama as it is-- plus, that cliffhanger was pretty stellar.
> 
> Thank you for reading thus far; if you have an questions, comments, or even fanart, please direct them to the comment section or to my tumblr: weeabooguppy.tumblr.com
> 
> Thanks again!


End file.
